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From the collection of the 




V JbJibrary 

San Francisco, California 




immm, MASS. 



Illustrated Magazine 

For Young Folks 





Pari II., May, 1891, to October, 1891. t7 -i-— ~^' 



Copyright, 1891, by The Century Co. 


The De Vinne Press. 




Stx Months — May, 1891, to October, 1891. 


H\ Lezuis Fraser 891 

Cornelia Redmond 760 

April Guests. Poem. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Alice Maude Ewell 532 

Artist Who Loves Cats and Dogs, a.«jd Paints Them, .\n. (Illustrated , 

by J. H. Dolph) ' 

"A Queer Little Boy in the Month of June." Jingle. (Illustrated i 

by C. T. Hill) : I 

Baby Chicks, The. Verse Maria J. Hammond 960 

Bachelor of Maine, K. Verse Ellen Douglas Deland 673 

Being Responsible for Toffy. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Sophie Swett 587 

liiRTHDAY Cup, The. Picture, drawn by V. Tojetti 498 

Black .-^RT. (Illustrated by the .'Vuthor) Jack Bennett 952 

Block Island, Two Lads of. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) Sarah J. Prichard 838 

Boat, Choosing a. (Illustrated by diagrams) F. W. Pangbom 874 

Bob o' Lincoln, The Merry Outlaw. (Illustrated) L. E. Stofiel 763 

Books of Olden Times. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake and others) C. A. Lynde 957 

'• Bow Your Little Heads." Jingle W. S. Reed 762 

Boy Settlers, The. (Illustrated by W. A. Rogers) Noah Brooks 507, 596 

Calais, The Siege of. A Ballad. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Nora Perry 492 

Catching Terrapin. (Illustrated by the Author) Alfred Kappes 837 

"Century" C.\t, The Story of the. (Illustrated by J. Carter Beard). . . Mary F. Honeyman . 785 

Chan Ok ; .\ Romance of the E.'^stern Seas. (Illustrated by the .\uthor) y. O. Davidson 523 

617, 690, 775, 846, 922 

Choosing a Boat. (Illustrated by diagrams) F. W. Panghorti 874 

City Playground, A. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Frank M. Chapman 609 

Confidence Maud ll'yman 931 

Cornfield, Lost in a. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) Jiate M. Chary 812 

Crowned Children of Europe, The. (Illustrated from photographs). . . . Charles K. Backus 742 

Cuckoo Clocks. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) . Malcolm Douglas 902 

Cup OF Tea for Grandm.\ma, A. Picture, drawn by Warren B. Davis 696 

Curious Relic, .\. (Illustrated from photographs) Margaret Bisland 916 

Diet of Candy, A Sarah S. Pratt 557 

Dorothy, Dorcas, and Dill. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) J. IK Smith 556 

Douglas Jerrold : A Sketch of his Life. (Illustrated) Walter Jerrold 683 

Early News. Verse Anna M. Pratt 656 

Elecampane of the Golden, Prince. Verse. (Illustrated by , 

the Author) ' 

Excellent Reason, An Mary E. Bradley 937 

Fate of the Psyche K.not, The. Picture, drawn by S. Y. Wendel 886 

Feast of All Nations, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Margaret Johnson 520 

Formal Call, .\. (Illustrated by Jessie McDermott) M. F. J 878 

Fortunes of Toby Trafford, The. (Illustrated by H. Sandham) J. T. Trowbridge 537 

573. 664, 745. 8'8. 90s 

Four Sides to a Triangle. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) Charles R. Talbot 732 

Free Circus, h. (Illustrated by W. Taber) Josephine Pollard 632 

Frogs' Singing-School, The. Verse. (Illustrated by F. S. Church) Mrs. E. T. Corbett 798 

Going to Post Her Letter. Picture, drawn by A. Brennan 699 

Going to the Pond in Central Park. Picture, drawn by A. Brennan 534 

GOLDENROD, THE SoNG OF THE. Poem. (Illustrated by Laura C. Hills) . .Grace Denio Litchfield 811 

Good Measure of Love. Poem Robert Undetwood Johnson. 754 

Grandpa's Sweetheart. Verse. (Illustrated) Hannah Coddington 627 

Hans Christian .\ndersen, A School-girl's Recollections of Fraiilein Rosa Schmalz 938 

Margaret Johnson 738 

( Mary Mapes Dodge 498 


Hello, Messmate : \'erse. ( Illustrated by the Author) H. A. Ogden 720 

Highway and By-way. Verse. (Illustrated by Margaret Johnson) Mary Bradley 624 

Hl.NT, A. Verse Anna M. Pratt 741 

Hubby-horses. (Illustrated) Austin Chapin 518 

Home of the Empress Josephine, The. (Illustrated from photographs). . Alary Shears Roberts 703 

How Dan Was Siirprised. Verse Alice P. Carter 709 

How Did She Tell ? Jingle Caroline Evans 608 

How the Great Plan Worked. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) lector Mapes 869 

How the Maiden and the Bear Sailed Away. Jingle. (Illustrated by ) 

R. B. Birch) \ Oscar Park 773 

Htnting, Plain Truths About. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Julian Ralph 755 

"I had a Little Row-boat." Jingle. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Cornelia Redmond 536 

" I Like My Little Dog Because ." Jingle John K. Bangs 951 

" I 'm Very Sleepy, For You See ." Jingle John K. Bangs 960 

In the Cloyer. Poem. (Illustrated by H. Fenn) Maurice Thompson 710 

"I Saw a Picture of Myself To-day." Jingle. (Illustrated by C. T. 'li\\\).John K. Bangs 759 

Isle of Skye, The. (Illustrated by H. P. Share) Eleanor Sherman Thackara . 855 

Jerrold. Douglas. (Illustrated) Walter Jerrold 683 

Jingle. (Illustrated by A. R. Wheelan) Benjamin Webster 741 

Jingles 506, 531, 536, 546, 556, 608, 645, 656, 682, 718, 741, 759, 760, 762, 782, 845, 886, 919. 926, 951, 960 

Josephine, The Home of the Empress. (Illustrated from photographs) .. Mary Shears Roberts 703 

June Day in the Orchard, A. Picture, drawn by F. Lungren 639 

Land of Pluck, The. Second Paper. (Illustrated by E. B. Bensell and 

Harry Chase) 

Last Days at the Seashore. Picture, drawn by W. H. Drake 835 

Left Behind and Fallen in Strange Company. Picture, drawn by / 

A. Brennan \ 7^4 

Lesson in H.\ppiness, \ W. J. Henderson 534 

Letty Penn's Visit. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Lillian L. Price 712 

Little Butterfly Hunter, The. Picture, drawn by Laura C. Hills . 596 

Little Girl's Ideal Party, A. Verse Isabel Yeomans Broum . . . . 725 

Little Loyers, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) C. P. Cranch 571 

Little Plunkett's " Cousin." (Illustrated by H. A. Ogden) Tudor Jen ks 932 

Little Visitor. A. Verse. (Illustrated by Laura C. Hills) Elizabeth L. Gould 631 

Lost in a Cornfield. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) A'ate M. Cleary 812 

Malcolm Douglas, To. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Amy S. Bridgman 877 

Mammy's Bed-time Song. Verse. (Illustrated by E. W. Kemble) Edward A. Oldham 882 

Manners of Sheep, The. Verse. (Illustrated by J. .\. S. Monks) John Albee 522 

Marble Qiarry, A. (Illustrated by E. J. Meeker) George P. Merrill 802 

Martinique: The Home of the Empress Josephine. (Illustrated by A. > 

Brennan, H. Fenn, and H. D. Nichols, from photographs) S ^^"'^' ^'"'"''^ Roberts 703 

Merry Outla%y, Bob o' Lincoln, The. (Illustrated) L. E. Stofiel 763 

Microscope, My. (Illustrated from photographs) Mary V. Worstell 547 

Model Undertaker, A. (Illustrated by Meredith Nugent) T. D. Witherspoon 866 

Morning. Verse. (Illustrated) Emily Dickinson 491 

Morning in the Hayfield, X. Picture, drawn by A. Brennan 790 

" Music Hath Charms." Picture, drawn by John Richards 715 

My Microscope. (Illustrated from photographs) . .Mary V. Worstell 547 

New Tale of a Tub, A. (Illustrated by W. Taber) .N. P. Francis 788 

Old Clock's Story, The. (Illustrated by Jessie McDermott) Annie L. Hyde 827 

Old Story Retold, .\n. Pictures 961 

Open Secret, An. Verse. (Illustrated by Laura C. Hills) Anna M. Pratt 716 

Oversight, An. Verse. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) l/ay Tyrrell 817 

P.athetic B.allad of Clarinthia Jane Lolisa, The. Jingle. ( Illustrated). Zn«ra E. Richards 531 

Penciled Jokes. (Illustrated) Benjamin Webster 717 

Pictures 498, 534, 596, 639, 672, 696, 699, 715, 764, 790, 835, 961 

Plain Truths About Hunting. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Julian Ralph 755 

Playground, A City. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Prank M. Chapman 609 

Prairie Home, A. (Illustrated by W. Taber) Maurice Thompson S59 



Prince Elecampane of the Golden Plume. Verse. (Illustrated by the 

Author) Margaret Johnson 738 

Professor and the White Violet, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) . Oliver Herford 553 

Puck, A Rhyme of Robin. Verse. (Illustrated by G. W. Edwards) Helen Gray Cone 731 

Rainy Day, A. Jingle. (Illustrated by G. Crosby) Jessie B. McCliire 845 

Rescued by the (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Sabria Avery 651 

Rhyme ok Robin Pick, A. Verse. (Illustrated by G. \V. Edwards) Helen Gray Cone 731 

Sad History of Will o' the Wisp, The. Verse. (Illustrated by A. R. > 

Wheelan) \ -^^""o" C. Waterman 864 

Saleh Bin Osman. " The Story of My Life." (Illustrated) Sale/i Bin Osman 795 

Sandpipers, The. Jingle. (Illustrated by A. R. Wheelan) B. W 741 

Shadow-lesson, A. (Illustrated) Harlan H. Ballard 636 

Siege of Calais, The. A Ballad. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Nora Perry 492 

Skye, The Isle of. (Illustrated by H. P. Share) Eleanor Sherman Thackara . 855 

Sleeping Flowers, The. Verse Emily Dickinson 616 

Some Incidents of Stanley's E.xpedition E. J. Glave 791 

Song of Folly, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Mildred Hviuells 695 

Song of the GoLDENROD, The. Poem. (Illustrated by Laura C. Hills) ... Crart- ZJtv/w Z/Zr/z/ft-W 811 

Song of the Thrush, The. Poem C. P. Craneh 764 

Spelling-.m.\tch, The. Verse Alice Maude Ewell 674 

St.^nley's Expedition, Some Incidents of E. J. Glave 791 

Statue, The Tudor Jenks 739 

Stockings or Scales. Verse. (Illustrated by the .\uthor) Oliver Herford 859 

Storm-bound Above the Clouds. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Frederick Funston 657 

Story of " .\ Flat," The Louise Livingston Bradford. . 719 

Story of My Life, The. (Illustrated) Saleh Bin Osman 795 

Story of Nebraska Allen, The. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) A'ale M. Putney 947 

Story of f he "Century " Cat, The. (Illustrated by J. Carter Beard) . . Mary F. Honeyman 785 

SuGGESi ion, a. Verse Hattie Litmmis 663 

Sum.mer Wind. Verse R. K. Muniittrick 716 

Swim.ming-hole Stories, The. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) IValter Starrs Bigelow 

Ka-souze ! Ka-souze ! 628 

An Unrewarded Rescue 629 

An Acrobatic Failure 700 

A Boy Revolution 701 

A Hornets' Nest 783 

Nathan Doolittle's Lawn Party 862 

Talk About Wild Flowers, A. (Illustrated by H. Fenn) John Burroughs 581 

Tee-Wahn Folk-Lore. (Illustrated by George Wharton Edwards) Charles F. Lummis S28 

Introductory 828 

The Antelope Boy 831 

The Coyote and the Crows 834 

The Magic Hide-and-Seek 927 

Terrapin, Catching. (Illustrated by the Author) Alfred Kappes 837 

"There Was a Little F.\t Man." Jingle. (Illustrated and engrossed by ^ C V R I d fi 

R. B. Birch) \ """" '" ^ """ ^^ 

"The Wind Was Blowing One Autumn Night." Tingle. (Illustrated > ^ ,■ c j j 

,,_„., J E> \ I Comelta Redmond . giq 

and engrossed by R. B. Birch) ^ 

Three Into One Won't Go. Jingle. (Illustrated by G. Crosby) Jessie B. McClure 506 

Three Trees. Poem. Headpiece by H. Fenn Charles H. Crandall . 904 

Through the B.\ck Ages Teresa C. Crofton 697 

"Tkk Tock Goes the Clock." Jingle. (Illustrated and engrossed by 

W. II. Drake) Cornelia Redmond 682 

Time o' Night, The. (Illustrated by E. B. Bensell) Frank M. Bicknell ... 944 

Timothy. Verse. (Illustrated by .\. B. Davies) Helen Gray Cone 836 

To Let. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) Marion C. Waterman 920 

To Malcolm Douglas. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Amy S. Bridgman. 877 

Tongaloo Tournament, The. (Illustrated by E. B. Bensell) Tudor Jenks 675 

Torpedo-station .\t Newport, The. (Illustrated by the Author) J. O. Davidson 761 



To THE Winds of June. Verse Mary A. Mason 638 

Triangle, Four Sides to a. (Illustrated by W. H. Drake) Charles R. Talbot 732 

TURNING-POI.N'T, A. (Illustrated by Jessie Curtis Shepherd) Katharine McDowell Rice. . . 554 

Twins, The. Verse. (Illustrated by G. Crosby) Jessie B. McCltire 782 

Two Lads of Block Island. (Illustrated by \V. H. Drake) Sarah J. Prichard 838 

Unfortunate Bathers, The. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) E. A. Cleveland Coxe 645 

Unfortunate Giraffe, The. Jingle. (Illustrated by the Author) Oliver Herford 718 

Vacation Days. (Illustrated by Mary Hallock Foote) Laura E. Richards 765 

Way to Travel, The. Verse. (Engrossed and illustrated by the Author) . . Valentine Adams 557 

What Was It ? Jingle Caroline Evans 546 

White Marie. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Virginia Woodward Cloud. . 914 

Why Bees Make Honey. (Illustrated by George Wharton Edwards) Alice Wellington Rollins. . 625 

Wild Flowers, .\ Talk About. (Illustrated by H. Fenn) John Burroughs 581 

Will o' the Wisp, The S.\d History of. Verse. (Illustrated by A. 

R. Wheelan) Marion C. JVaterman 864 

Winds of June, To the. Verse Mary A. Mason 638 

Young Pan. Picture, drawn by R. B. Birch 672 


"Spring Blossoms," by George Wharton Edwards, facing Title-page of Volume — "The Little Lovers," by 
R. B. Birch, page 570 — "Rescued by the Enemy," by R. B. Birch, page 650 — " Puck and the Fairies," by 
George Wharton Edwards, page 730 — " Goldenrod," by Laura C. Hills, page 810 — " You Make so Much Noise 
I Can't Sleep: " by J. H. Dolph, page 890. 

Jack-in-the-Pulpit. (Illustrated. ) 

Introduction — S. Song of May — Photography of Colors — Seven Languages — What They Say — The 
Condor of the Andes — The Secret Carver (illustrated) — The Blue Sky, 562; Introduction — A Protest — 
Two Long Words — A June Encounter — A Fiji Dude (illustrated), 642 ; Introduction — Do .Animals Think? 

— Which Is It ? — Those Two Long Words, 722 ; Introduction — Another Chance for Word-makers — The 
Crab's Lesson — Thoughts About Animals Thinking — Another Dog Story — .A Spider's Ingenuity (illus- 
trated) — How .About the Fly? 800; Introduction — Telegraph-poles Fooling Bears and Woodpeckers 

— Enterprising Begonias — .About the Farthing — Queens' Needles — A Traveling Plant (illustrated), 880; 
Introduction — A Hermit to Order — -An Infant .Audubon — Birds — .\ Grasshopper's Ears (illustrated) • — A 
Photograph in .Action — From the Deacon's Scrap-book, 972. 

For Very Little Folk. (lUustr.ated.) 

Pussy and the Turtle ■ 560 

The Second Kitten's Hunt 640 

The Rabbit and the Donkey 799 

The Letter-box. (Illustrated) 564, 644, 724, 804, 884, 964 

The Riddle-box. (Illustrated) 567, 647, 727, 807,887,967 



Vol. XVIII. 

MAY, I 8 9 I . 

Copyright, 1891, by The Centurv Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 7. 


Bv Emily Dickinson. 

Will there really be a morning ? 

Is there such a thing as day ? 
Could I see it from the mountains 

If I were as tall as they ? 

Has it feet like water-lilies ? 

Has it feathers like a bird ? 
Is it brought from famous countries 

Of which I have never heard ? 

Oh, some scholar ! Oh, some .sailor ! 

Oh, some wise man from the skies ! 
Please to tell a little pilgrim 

Where the place called morning lies ! 


By Nora Perry. 

Twenty trumpets, blowing, blowing, 
Fifers playing, drums a-going, 
Bugles calling to the fray. 
When King Edward took his way 
To the city of Calais. 

Down he rode with banners streaming, 
Sabers shining, lances gleaming, 

Down he rode, the kingly head 
Of the glittering line he led. 
Rode into the sunset red. 

Westward, where in bold defying 

Fifty Calais flags were flying. 

Watching from the turret heights 
Laughed aloud the Calais knights. 
Soldiers known in famous fights. 

As they laughed, still near and nearer 

Rode the king, and clear and clearer 

Just beyond the guarded moat 

Trumpet-call and bugle-note 

On the evening air did float. 

Then, with splendid pennons streaming, 
Golden lions and lihes gleaming 
On the royal standards there. 
Forth there rode a herald fair 
With a confident bold air. 



9 \ 

Swift he rode, with pace unfaltering, 
Not a sign of doubt or paltering; 
Swift he rode, as sped by fate, 
Straight unto the Calais gate, 
Clothed about with royal state. 

" In the king's name, open straightway ! " 
Called he there before the gateway. 

From their fortress strong and high. 
Scornfully they made reph*, 
•' In the king's name, we defy 

" British greed and British power. 
Here in fortress and in tower, 

France shall keep and hold her own. 

Over Calais reign alone. 

With her king upon his throne ! " 

But alas for Calais, lying 

Alonth by month there, starving, d}ing. 
In her melancholy phght 
Held in siege by England's might 
With her armied force in sight : 

Month by month, until despairing. 

Forth they sent a warder bearing 

This frank message — they would fling 
Open wide their gates, and bring 
Straight unto the English king 



The keys of Calais, if in pity 
He would pass from out the cit)- 

All the people young and old — 
Nobles, merchants, soldiers bold. 
All the populace, full told. 


"To the English crown shall render 
Unconditional surrender. 

Shall be subject unto me. 
Or for ransom or for fee, 
Ere the siege shall hfted be ! " 


Hot with wrath, the king made answer,- 
'Tell your lords that ever)- man, sir, 

AH the people young and old. 

Nobles, merchants, soldiers bold. 

All the populace, full told. 

When returned the Calais warder 
With this message, flushed with ardor. 
With their French blood mounting 
Swift the lords did make reply, 
" Tell the king that we can die : 





' Bravely starve without his pity 
Shut within our guarded city. 
But to turn so late, so late, 
Cowards at the very gate — 
Send unto this blindfold fate 

' Comrades who have starved together, 
Through a twelvemonth's varied weather; 
Shall a Frenchman stoop so low, 
Yield like this unto a foe, 
Faithless, heartless? No, — ah, no I " 

Stirred with something like relenting 
At this courage, half repenting 

Of his tyrannous decree, 

Edward cried impatiently, 
" Tell these Frenchmen now from me, 

' If as ransom they will straightway 
Send me by the city gateway 

Six chief merchants of the town. 

Citizens of high renown. 

Swift my herald shall ride down 

' Into Calais, and proclaim there 
Peace and pardon in my name there ; 
Peace and pardon full and fain. 
Unto those who do remain 
Subject to my sovereign reign." 

' Never! never! " rose the bitter 
Cry of Calais. " It were fitter 
We should die together here 
Than to buy our lives so dear ! " 
But at this, a voice rose clear. 

Saying, " Friends, it were a pity 

Thus to doom to death a city ; 

Are there not at this sore need 
Men of high renown and deed 
Who will follow where I lead ? " 

Then forth stept with gallant bearing 
Six brave men whose noble daring 
Was to save the city there 
From the doom of slow despair : 
Forth they stept while sob and prayer 

Broke the cheers that were ascending 

In a pitiful strange blending; 
For alas ! — what cruel fate 
Lurked behind that iron gate 
Where King Edward held his state ! 

Hopeless then of English pity. 
Forth they went from out the city, 
Bare of foot and bare of head, 
And by halters meanly led. 
As the king had grimly said. 



When before him in this fashion, 

They were brought, with sudden passion 

Loud he thundered, " Let them die ! 

Then arose a tender cry : 
" O my liege, my lord, put by 

' In this hour war's cruel measure ! 
Calais yields her life and treasure 
To your mercy, O my king ! 
Give her then unreckoning 
Mercy that befits a king." 

In a moment's breathless span there. 
Joyfully from man to man there 

Ran the whisper low yet keen, 
" 'T is Philippa; 't is the queen ! " 

Startled from his warlike mien, 

Flushed King Edward as he listened, 
As he saw the eyes that glistened. 

Then, with voice that vainly tried 

To be fierce with wrath and pride, 

'■ Dame, my dame ! " he .sharply cried. 

But, before him straightway kneeling. 
Spake the Queen in soft appealing : 
■' For my sake ! " she sweetly said. 
Lifting up her drooping head. 
In her face both love and dread. 

For her sake ! The stem lips parted ; 
There he stood, this lion-hearted 

Soldier, conqueror, and king. 

For her sake considering 

Mercy that befits a king ! 




For her sake ! Yet, when assenting 

Turned he there with swift relenting, 

Who that looked upon his face, 

Merciful with pardoning grace. 

Failed the glad relief to trace ? 

So at last the grand old story 
Ends in conquered Calais' glory ; 

For not Edward's might and skill. 
Nor Philippa's gracious will. 
Through the centuries doth thrill. 

But that deed so great and tender, 
Where in noble self-surrender 

Six brave men in solemn state 
Passed beyond that iron gate. 
Halter led, to meet their fate ! 



Bv Mary Mapes Dodge. 

the old, old time, 
vhen many who 
now are called the 
heroes of antiquit)' 
were cutting their 
baby-teeth, men 
commenced quar- 
reling for the pos- 
session of the 
countr\- which is 
now known as Holland ; and in one form or an- 
other, the contest has been going on nearly ever 
since. Why any should have wanted it is a mysterj' 
to me. It was then only a low tract of spong)' 
marsh, a network of queer rivers that seemed 

never to know where they belonged, but insisted 
every spring upon pacing unwelcome visits to 
the inland — hiding here, running into each 
other there, and falling asleep in pleasant places. 
It was a great land-and-water kaleidoscope, girt 
about with a rim of gloomy forest ; or a sort of 
dissected puzzle, with half of the pieces in soak ; 
and its owners were a scant}', savage, fish-eating 
tribe, living, like beavers, on mounds of their 
own raising. 

^^^lat could have been the attraction ? AMiat, 
indeed, unless it were the same feeling that often 
makes a small boy holding either a kaleidoscope, 
or a puzzle, an object of persecution to all the 
big boys around him. 



" Let me take a look ! " they cry ; " I want my 
turn " ; or, " Give iiic the puzzle ! Let 's see what 
I can make out of it ! " 

You know how it is too apt to be. First, their 
attention is arrested by seeing the small boy 
peculiarly happy and absorbed. They begin to 
nudge, then to bully him. Small boy shakes 
his head and tries to enjoy himself in peace and 
quietness. Bullying increases — the nudges be- 
come dangerous. In despair he soon gives in, 
or, rather, gives up, and the big boys slide into 
easy possession. 

But suppose the small boy is plucky, and will 
not give up ? Suppose he w^ould see the puzzle 
crushed to atoms first ? Suppose only positive 
big-boy power can overcome his as positive re- 
sistance ? What then ? 

So commenced the history of Holland. 

The first who held possession of Dutch soil — 
not the first who ever had lived upon it, but the 
first who had persistently enjoyed the kaleido- 
scope, and busied themselves with the puzzle — 
were a branch of the great German race. Driven 
by circumstances from their old home, they had 
settled upon an empty island in the river Rhine, 
which, you know, after leaving its pleasant south- 
ern country, straggles through Holland in a be- 
wildered search for the sea. This island they 
called Betauw, or " Good Meadow," and so, in 
time, themselves came to be called Batavii, or 

Other portions of the country were held by 
various tribes living upon and beyond a great 
tract of land which afterward, in true Holland 
style, was turned into a sea.* Most of these 
tribes were sturdy and brave, but the Batavii 
were braver than any. Fierce, stanch, and de- 
fiant, they taught even their little children only 
the law of might ; and their children grew up 
to be mightier than they. The blessed Teacher 
had not yet brought the world his lesson of 
mercy and love. " Conquer one another " had 
stronger claims to their consideration than " Love 
one another." 

Their votes in council were given by the 
clashing of arms ; and often their wives and 
mothers stood by with shouts and cries of 
encouragement wherever the fight was thickest. 

" Others go to battle," said the historian Taci- 
tus; " these go to war." 

Soon the all-conquering Romans, who, with 
Juhus Cssar at their head, had trampled sur- 
rounding nations into subjection, discovered 
that the Batavii were not to be vanquished — 
that their friendship was worth far more than the 
wretched country they inhabited. An alliance 
was soon formed, and the Batavii were declared 
to be exempt from the annual tax or tribute 
which all others were forced to pay to the 
Romans. Ccesar himself was not ashamed to 
extol their skill in arms, nor to send their already 
famous warriors to fight his batdes and strike 
terror to the hearts of his foes. 

The Batavian cavalry could swim across wide 
and deep rivers without breaking their ranks, 
and their infantry were excelled by none in 
drill, in archery, and wonderful powers of en- 
durance. They had fought too long with the 
elements in holding their " Good Meadow " to 
be dismayed in battle by any amount of danger 
and fatigue. 

The Romans called them " friends," but the 
Batavians soon discovered that they were being 
used merely as a cat's-paw. After a while, as 
cat's-paws will, they turned and scratched. A 
contest, stubborn and tedious, between the 
Romans and Batavians followed. At length 
both parties were glad to make terms of peace, 
which prevailed, with few interruptions, until the 
decline of the Roman Empire. 

After that, hordes of barbarians overran 
Europe ; and Holland, with the rest, had a 
hard time of it. Man to man, the Batavian 
could hold his own against any mortal foe, but 
he was not always proof against numbers. The 
" Good Meadow," grown larger and more valu- 
able, was conquered and held in turn by several 
of the "big boys" among the .savage tribes, 
but not until Batavian pluck stood recorded in 
many a fearful tale passed from father to son. 

Later, each of the surrounding nations, as 
it grew more powerful, tried to wrest Holland 
from the holders of her .soil. Some succeeded, 
some failed ; but always, and every time, the 
Dutch gathered their strength for the contest 
and went not to battle, but to war. As, in later 

' The Zuyder Zee, formed by successive inundations during the thirteenth century. In the last of these 
inundations — in 12S7 — nearly eighty thous,ind persons were drowned. 



history, the Russians burnt Moscow to prevent were sure, sooner or later, to arouse Dutch 

it from falling into the hands of Xapoleon, so pluck ; and Dutch pluck, in the end, has 

this stanch people always stood ready, at the always beaten. 

worst, to drown Holland rather than }-ield her And so, though Roman, Saxon, .\iLstrian, 
to the foe. Often they let in the waters they Spaniard, Belgian, EngUshman, and French- 
had so laboriously shut out, la\-ing waste hun- man in turn flourished a scepter over them. 

dreds of fertile acres, that an avenging sea 
might suddenly confound the invaders. Often 
they faced famine and pestilence, men, women, 
and little wonder-stricken children perishing in 
the streets of their beleaguered cities — all who 
had breath to say it, stUl fiercely refusing to sur- 
render. Wherever the strong arm of the enemy 
succeeded in mowing these people down, a 
stronger, sturdier growth was sure to spring from 
the stubble. Sometimes defeated, never sub- 
dued, they were patient under subjection only 
until they were again ready to rise as one man 
and throw off the yoke. Now and then, it is 
true, under promise of peace and increased 
prosperity, they formed a friendly union with a 
one-time enemy. But woe to the other side if 
it carried aggression and a trust in might too 
far. Treachery, oppression, breach of faith 

it comes, after all, to be true, that only " the 
Dutch have really taken Holland." It is theirs 
by ever)' right of inheritance and strife — theirs 
to hold, to drain, and to pump, for ever and ever. 
They wrested it from the sea, not in a day, 
but through long years of patient toil, through 
drear)' years of suffering and sorrow. They 
have counted their dead, in their war with the 
ocean alone, by hundreds of thousands. Indus- 
try, hardihood, and thrift have been their alUes 
in a better sense than their old Batavian forces 
were allied to the haught)- Cssar. 

For ages, it seems, Holland could not have 
known a leisure moment. Frugal, hardy, pains- 
taking, and persevering, her spirit was ever 
equal to great enterprises. With them ever)' 
difficulty was a challenge. Obstacles that 
would have discouraged others, inspired the 



Dutch with increased energy. Their land was 
only a marsh threatened by the sea. What of 
that? So much the more need of labor and 
skill to make it a hailing-place among nations. 
It was barren and bleak. " Why, then," said 
they, " so much the more need we should be- 
come masters in tilling the soil." It was a very 
little place, scarcely worth giving a name on 
the maps. " So much the more need," said 
plucky Holland, " that we extend our posses- 
sions, own lands in every comer of the earth, 
and send our ships far and near, until every na- 
tion shall unconsciously pay us tribute." 

" Such is the industry of the people and the 
trade they drive," said a writer of the sixteenth 
century, " that, having little or no com of their 
own growth, they do provide themselves else- 
where, not only sufficient for their own spend- 
ing, but wherewith to supply their neighbors. 
Having no timber of their own, they spend 
more timber in building ships and fencing their 
water-courses than any country in the world. 
. . . And finally, having neither flax nor wool, 
they make more cloth of both sorts than in all 
the countries of the world, except France and 

Of some things they soon began to have a 
surplus. There was not half, nor a quarter 
enough persons in frugal Holland to drink all 
the milk of their herds. Forthwith Dutch but- 
ter and cheese came to be sent all over Chris- 
tendom. The herring-fisheries were enormous. 
More fish came to their nets than would satisfy 
every man, woman, and child in Holland. 
England had enough herring of her own. 
Ships were too slow in those days to make 
fresh fish a desirable article of export. Here 
was trouble ! Not so. Up rose a Dutchman 
named William Beukles, and invented the cur- 
ing and pickling of herring. From that hour 
the fish trade made Holland richer and more 
prosperous than ever. A monument was raised 
to the memory of Beukles, for was he not a na- 
tional benefactor ? 

The Dutch delight in honoring their heroes, 
their statesmen, and inventors. You cannot be 
long among them without hearing of one Lau- 
rens Janzoon Koster, to whom, they insist, the 
world owes the art of printing with movable 
types — the most important of human inventions. 

Their cities are rich in memorials and monu- 
ments of those whose wisdom and skill have 
proved a boon to mankind. All along the paths 
of human progress we can find Dutch footprints. 
In education, science, and political economy, 
they have, many a time, led the way. 

The boys and girls of Holland are citizens in 
a high sense of the word. They soon leam to 
love their country, and to recognize the fatherly 
care of its government. A sense of common 
danger, of the necessity of all acting together in 
common defense, has served to knit the affections 
of the people. In truth it may be said, for his- 
tory has proved it, that in every Dutch arm you 
can feel the pulse of Holland. Throughout her 
early struggles, in the palmy, glorious days of 
the republic, as well as now in her cautious 
constitutional monarchy, the Dutch have been 
patriots — mistaken and short-sighted at times, 
but always true to their beloved "Good Mea- 
dow." Hollow-land, Low-land, or Nether-land, 
whatever men may call it, their country stands 
high in their hearts. They love it with more 
than the love of a mountaineer for his native 

To be sure there have been riots and out- 
breaks there, as in all other thickly settled parts 
of the world — perhaps more than elsewhere, 
for Dutch indignation, though slow in kindling, 
makes a prodigious blaze when once fairly afire. 
Some of these disturbances have arisen only 
after a long endurance of serious wrongs ; and 
some seem to have been started at once by that 
queer friction-match in human nature, which, if 
left unguarded, is sure to be nibbled at, and so 
ignited, by the first little mouse of discontent 
that finds it. 

There was a curious origin to one of these 
domestic quarrels. On a certain occasion a 
banquet was given, at which were present two 
noted Dutch noblemen, rivals in power, who had 
several old grudges to settle. The conversa- 
tion turning on the codfisher)', one of the two 
remarked upon the manner in which the hook 
{/loek) took the codfish, or kabbtljaattw, as the 
Dutch call it. 

" The hook take the codfish 1 " exclaimed the 
other in no very civil tone ; " it would be better 
sense to say that the codfish takes the hook." 

The grim jest was taken up in bitter earnest. 




High words passed, and the chieftains rose from 
the table enemies for life. 

They proceeded to organize war against each 
other ; a bitter war it proved to Holland, for it 
lasted one hundred and fifty years, and was 
fought out with all the stubbornness of family 
feuds. The opposing parties took the names of 
" hoeks " and " kabbeljaauws," and men of all 
classes enlisted in their respective ranks. In 
many instances fathers, brothers, sons, and old- 
time friends forgot their ties, and knew each other 
only as foes. The feud (being Dutch !) raged 
hotter and stronger in proportion as men had 
time coolly to consider the question. .\ thicket 
of mutual wrongs, real or imaginary, sprang up 
to further entangle the opposing parties ; fami- 
lies were di%ided, miles of smiling country laid 
in ruin, and tens of thousands of men slain — 
for what ? 

Those who fought, and those who looked on, 
longing for peace, are alike silent now. Histor}^ 
cannot quite clear up the mystery. I know how 
hard it must have been to settle the knotty ques- 
tion whether hooks or codfish can more prop- 
erly be said to be " taken," and how dangerous 
the littlest thorns of anger and jealousy become 
if not plucked out at the onset. It is certain, 
too, that the hoeks and kabbeUaauws were terribly 
in earnest : 

•' But what they killed each other for 
I never could make out." 

The kabbeljaauws had one advantage. When 
a public dinner was gi\en by their party, the 
first dish brought in by the seneschal (or stew- 
ard) was a huge plate of codfish elaborately 
decorated with flowers; something not ornamen- 
tal only, but substantial and satisfactor\' ; while 
the corresponding dish at a hoek festival con- 
tained nothing but a gigantic hook encircled 
by a flowerj' wreath. 

All through Dutch historj' you will find quaint 
words and phrases that have a terrible record 
folded wnthin their quaintness. The Casenbrot- 
spel, or Bread and Cheese war, was not funny 
when it came to blight the last ten years of the 
fifteenth century, though it sounds so lightly 
now. And the Gueux, or '• Beggars," who, 
nearly a century later, come forth on the blood- 
stained page, were something more than beg- 
gars, as King Philip and the wicked Duke of 
.Alva found to their cost. 

Ah, those Beggars ! \\'atch for them when 
you read Dutch history. They will soon appear, 
with their wallets and wooden bowls, their doub- 
lets of ashen gray, — brave, reckless, desperate 
men, whose deeds struck terror over land and 
sea. When once they come in sight, turn as you 
may, you will meet them ; you will hear their 
wild cri,'. " Long live the Beggars ! " ringing 
amid the blaze and carnage of many a terrible 
day. There are princes and nobles among them. 
They will grow bolder and fiercer, more reckless 


and desperate, until their country's persecutor, 
Philip of Spain, has withdrawn the last man of 
all his butchering hosts from their soil ; until the 
Duke of Alva, one of the blackest characters 
in all history, has cowered before the wrath of 
Holland ! 

Ah ! my light-hearted boys and girls, if there 
were not lessons to be learned from these things, 
it would be well to blot them from human mem- 
ory. But would it be well to forget the hero- 
ism, the majestic patience, the trust in God, that 
shine forth resplendent from these darkest pages 
of Dutch history? Can we afford to lose such 
examples of human grandeur under suffering as 
come to us from the beleaguered cities of Naar- 
den, Haarlem, and Leyden ? When you learn 
their stories, if you do not know them already, 
you will understand Dutch pluck in all its full- 
ness, and be glad that, in the end, it proved 
victorious over every foe. 

But, as you already have been told, it is not 
only amid the din of war that Holland has 

due to the fact that their peculiar simplicity and 
love of quiet have proved a sort of standing 
invitation to make war upon them ; possibly it 
is because of their great commercial enterprise, 
and their tempting stores ; but, to my mind, 
their peculiarly far-seeing, though seemingly 
sleepy, way of looking at things has had much 
to do with their histor}'. 

The story of Dutch patriotism could be writ- 
ten out in symbols, or pictures, more eloquently 
than that of any other nation. There would be 
battleships and fortresses, shields, and arrows, 
and spears, and all the paraphernalia of war, 
ancient and modern. But beside these, and 
having a sterner significance, would be the tools 
and implements of artisans, the windmills, the 
dykes, the canals ; the sluice-gates, the locks, 
the piles that hold up their cities. How much 
could be told by the great, white-sailed mer- 
chantmen bound for every sea ; by the mam- 
moth docks, and by the wonderful cargoes 
coming and going ! How the great buildings 

shown her pluck; nor is hers the boisterous, would loom up, each telling its storv — the fac- 

bragging quality that offends at every turn. A tories, warehouses, schools, colleges, museums, 

simpler, steadier, more peacefully inclined peo- legislative halls, the hospitals, asylums, and 

pie it would be hard to find ; but somehow the)- churches ! 

have an odd way of being actively concerned There would be more than these : there would 

in the history of other nations. Possibly this is be libraries, art-galleries, and holy places, bat- 




tered and broken. There would be monuments terrible voices. There would be boats manned 
and relics, and church organs with sweet yet by rough heroes trving to save thousands of 

drowning fellow-creatures whose 
homes had been swept away by 
the waves. We should see the 
noblest public parks of their time ; 
gardens, too, wonderful in their 
blooming ; and, over all, a picture 
of the bells, the carillons that for 
ages have sent down messages, 
more or less musical, upon the 

Dutch pluck has sailed all 
over the world. It has put its 
stamp on commerce, science, 
and manufactures. It has set 
its seal on ever\- quarter of the 
earth. Dutchmen were at home 
in Japan before either the Amer- 
icans or English had dared to 
venture upon those inhospitable 
shores. There were great ob- 
stacles to encounter in any at- 
tempt at trading or becoming 
acquainted with that strange 
hermit of an empire in the east. 
She had enough of Vier own, 


she said, and asked no favors of the outside 
barbarians. Would they be kind enough to 
stay away ? Most of the world gave an un- 
willing assent ; but Holland undertook to show 
Japan the folly of rejecting the benefits of com- 
merce ; and in time, and after many a hard 
struggle, succeeded in establishing a Japanese 

Talking of ships, where did that ship sail from 
that brought the good Fathers of New England 
safely across the sea ? And, for months before, 
what country had sheltered them from the per- 

round ? Why, until very lately, did your fathers 
and uncles on the first day of January, from 
morning till night, pay visits from house to house, 
wishing the ladies a " Happy New Year " ? 
Simply because these were Holland customs ; 
they were following the example set by Dutch 

Hendrick Hudson, the first white man who 
explored our noble North River, was a Dutch- 
man. He modestly called it De Groote (or the 
Great) river, little thinking that for all time 
after it would bear his own name, and that you 

secution that threatened them in their native 
land ? Ask the books these questions, if need 
be, and ask yourselves whether to shelter the 
oppressed, to offer an asylum to hunted fugitives 
from every clime, is not a noble work for pluck 
to do. 

Whence, too, did some of our New York 
oddities come ? Why are you, little New York- 
ers, so fond of waffles, kmllers, and doughnuts, 
and New Year's cake ? Dutch inventions every 
one of them. Why do you expectantly honor the 
good St. Nicholas, the patron saint of New York ? 
Why is this city turned topsy-turvy in a gen- 
eral " moving" whenever the first of May comes 

Vol. XVIIL— 58. 

would call it tlie Hudson. Staten (or States) 
Island was named by him in honor of his home 
government, the States General. Some say he 
called the dangerous passage between Long and 
Manhattan islands (which only five years ago 
yielded its most dangerous reef to the persuasions 
of science and dynamite), Helle Gat, or Beautiful 
Pass. Look at the names of many down-town 
streets of New York, once called New Amster- 
dam — The Bowery (Bouerie), Cortlandt, Van- 
dam, Roosevelt, Stuyvesant, and scores of others 
all named after good Dutchmen. Not only New 
York, but Brooklyn, Albany, and other cities 
have streets that lead one directly into the 


Netherlands, so to speak. Indeed, Dutch 
names he sprinkled very thickly in every direc- 
tion within a hundred miles of the Fifth Avenue. 
It may not be out of place for the writer to 
allude here to a story of Dutch life which pos- 
sibly is known to many readers of St. Nicho- 
las. It is the story of " Hans Brinker ; or the 
Silver Skates." If that book has interested you, 
it will have only half done its work unless it also 
has aroused in you an admiration of the Dutch 
character and a desire to know more of Dutch 
history. To gain this knowledge, a boy or girl, 
old enough to pursue special studies by reading, 
cannot do better than to take up the works of 
our American author, John Lothrop Motley, 
the great historian of Holland. His " Rise 
of the Dutch Republic," and " The History of 


the United Netherlands," are two of the man- 
liest, most thorough, most eloquent works of 
history ever written. 

Holland is stanch, true, and plucky, but it is 
Holland ; and, lest you forget that it still is the 
oddest country in Christendom, I must tell you 
that within a few months a new king has suc- 
ceeded to the throne of Holland — and this new 
king is a bright little girl barely eleven years of 
age ! Yes, the High Council of Holland has 
solemnly decreed that in taking the oath of alle- 
giance to the new sovereign the title " King " 
shall be used. On another page in this number 
of St. Nicholas you will find a brief letter about 
the little lady and the career that lies before her; 
but why this httle girl should be called King 
Wilhelmina no one but a Dutchman can tell ! 


By Jessie E. McGlure. 

Little Tommy Gray has a very 
empty pate, 
'il!//f//:' ;. , Dearly loves to play, 

' but he hates his 
book and slate ; 
He is puz:;led now, 
over what ho 
ought to know, 
"Three into one won't 
eo 1 "' 


By Noah Brooks. 

[BfgTtn in the Xoz'cmber number. ) 

Chapter XIV. 


It was an anxious and wondering household 
that Sandy burst in upon, next morning, when 
he had reached the cabin, escorted to the 
divide above Younkins's place by his kind- 
hearted host of the night before. It was Sun- 
day morning, bright and beautiful ; but truly 
never had any home looked so pleasant to his 
eyes as did the homely and weather-beaten log- 
cabin which they called their own while they 
lived in it. He had left his borrowed horse 
with its owner, and, shouldering his meal-sack 
with its dearly bought contents, he had taken a 
short cut to the cabin, avoiding the usual trail in 
order that as he approached he might not be 
seen from the window looking down the river. 

•' Oh, Sand)' 's all right," he heard his brother 
Charlie say. " I '11 stake my life that he will 
come home with flpng colors, if you only give 
him time. He 's lost the trail somehow, and 
had to put up at some cabin all night. Don't 
you worry about Sandy." 

" But these Indian stories ; I don't like them," 
said his father, with a tinge of sadness in his 

Sandy could bear no more ; so, flinging down 
his burden, he bounced into the cabin with, 
'• Oh, I 'm all right I Safe and sound, but as 
hungry as a bear." 

The little party rushed to embrace the young 
adventurer, and, in their first flush of surprise, 
nobody remembered to be severe with him for 
his carelessness. Quite the hero of the hour, the 
lad sat on the table and told them his tale, how 
he had lost his way, and how hospitably anti 
well he had been cared for at Fuller's. 

'' Fuller's ! " exclaimed his uncle. " What in 
the world took you so far oft" your track as 

Fuller's ? You must have gone at least ten 
miles out of your way." 

" Yes, Uncle Charlie," said the bo)', " it 's just 
as easy to travel ten miles out of the way as it 
is to go one. All you have to do is to get your 
face in the wrong way, and all the rest is easy. 
Just keep a-going ; that 's what I did. I turned 
to the right instead of to the left, and for once 
I found that the right was wrong." 

A burst of laughter from Oscar, who had been 
opening the sack that held Sandy's purchases, 
interrupted the story. 

" Just see what a hodgepodge of a mess 
Sandy has brought home ! Tobacco, biscuits, 
ginger, and I don't know what not, all in a pud- 
ding. It only lacks milk and eggs to make it a 
cracker pudding flavored with ginger and smok- 
ing-tobacco I " And everybody joined in the 
laugh that a glance at Sandy's load called 

•' Yes," said the blushing boy, '" I forgot to 
tie the bag at both ends, and the jouncing up 
and down of Younkins's old horse (dear me ! 
was n't he a hard trotter !) must have made a 
mash of everything in the bag. The paper of 
tobacco burst, and then I suppose the ginger 
followed ; the jolting of poor old ' Dobbin ' 
did the rest. Ruined, daddy ? Nothing worth 
saving ? " 

Mr. Howell ruefully acknowledged that the 
mixture was not good to eat, nor yet to smoke, 
and certainly not to make gingerbread of. So, 
after picking out some of the larger pieces of 
the biscuits, the rest was thrown away, greatly 
to Sandy's mortification. 

'• .\11 of my journey gone for nothing," he 
said with a sigh. 

" Never mind, my boy," said his father, 
fondly ; " since you have come back alive 
and well, let the rest of the business care for 
itself. As long as you are alive and the red- 
skins have not captured you, I am satisfied." 




Such was Sandy's welcome home. 

With the following Monday morning came 
hard work, — harder work, so Sandy thought, 
than miserably trj-ing to find ones way in the 
darkness of a strange region of country. For 
another log-house, this time on the prairie 
claim, was to be begun at once. They might 
be called on at any time to give up the cabin in 
which they were simply tenants at will, and it was 
necessar)- that a house of some sort be put on 
the claim that they had staked out and planted. 
The com was up and doing well. Sun and rain 
had contributed to hasten on the corn-field, and 
the \-ines of the melons were vigorously push- 
ing their way up and down the hills of grain. 
CharUe wondered what they would do with so 
many watermelons when they ripened; there 
would be himdreds of them ; and the mouths 
that were to eat them, although now watering 
for the delicious fi^it. were not numerous enough 
to make away with a hundredth part of what 
would be ripe verj- soon. There was no mar- 
ket nearer than the post, and there were many 
melon-patches between \Miirtiers and the fort. 

But the new log-house, taken hold of with 
energy, w-as soon built up to the height where 
the roof was to be put on. At this juncture. 
Younkins ad\Tsed them to roof over the cabin 
slightly, make a corn-bin of it. and wait for 
developments. For, he argued, if there should 
be any rush of emigrants and settlers to that 
part of the countr)-, so that their claims were 
in danger of dispute, they would have ample 
warning, and could make ready for an immediate 
occupation of the place. If nobody came, then 
the corn-house, or bin. would be all they wanted 
of the structure. 

But Mr. Howell, who took the lead in all 
such matters, shook his head doubtfiilly. He 
was not in favor of evading the land laws ; he 
was more a&aid of the claim being jumped. If 
they were to come home fi-om a hunting trip, 
some time, and find their log-cabin occupied 
by a '•claim-jumper," or "squatter," as these in- 
terlopers were called, and their farm in the 
possession of strangers, would n't they feel 
cheap ? He thought so. 

•• Say, Uncle Aleck," said Oscar, " why not 
finish it ofi" as a cabin to live in, put in the com 
when it ripens, and then we shall have the con- 

cern as a dwelling, in case there is any danger 
of the claim being jumped ? " 

•' Great head, Oscar," said his uncle admir- 
ingly. " That is the best notion yet. We will 
complete the cabin just as if we were to move 
into it, and if anybody who looks like an intend- 
ing claim-jumper comes prowling around, we 
will take the alarm and move in. But so far, 
I 'm sure, there has been no rush to these parts. 
It 's past planting season, and it is not likely 
that anybody will get up this way, now so far 
west, without our knowing it." 

So the log-cabin, or, as they called it, " Whit- 
tier. Ximiber Two," was finished with all that 
the land laws required, with a window filled 
with panes of glass, a door, and a " stick 
chinmey " built of sticks plastered with clay, a 
floor and space enough on the ground to take 
care of a family twice as large as theirs, in case 
of need. When all was done, they felt that 
they were now able to hold their farming claim 
as well as their timber claim, for on each was a 
goodly log-house, fit to live in and comfortable 
for the coming winter if they should make up 
their minds to live in the two cabins during that 
tning season. 

The boys took great satisfaction in their 
kitchen-garden near the house in which they 
were tenants; for when Younkins lived there, 
he had plowed and spaded the patch, and planted 
it two seasons, so now it was an old piece of 
ground compared wnth the wild land that had 
just been broken up around it. In their garden- 
spot they had planted a variet)" of vegetables 
for the table, and in the glorious Kansas sun- 
shine, watered by frequent showers, they were 
thriving wonderfully. They promised them- 
selves much pleasure and profit fi-om a garden 
that they would make by their new cabin, when 
another summer should come, 

" Younkins says that he can walk all over his 
melon-patch on the other side of the Fork, step- 
ping only on the melons and never touching the 
ground once," said Oscar, one day, later in the 
season, as they were feasting themselves on one 
of the deUcious watermelons that now so plen- 
tifiilly dotted their own corn-field. 

'■ What a big ston,' ! " exclaimed both of the 
other boys at once. But Oscar appealed to his 
father, who came striding by the edge of the 



field where they chatted together. Hatl he ever 
heard of such a thing ? 

" Well," said Mr. Bryant, good-naturedly, '■ 1 
have heard of melons so thick in a patch, and 
so big around, that the sunshine could n't get 
to the ground except at high noon. How is 
that for a tall story ? " 

The boys protested that that was only a tale 
of fancy. Could it be possible that anybody 
could raise melons so thickly together as Mr. 
Younkins had said he had seen them ? Mr. 
Bryant, having kicked open a fine melon, took 
out the heart of it to refresh himself with, as 
was the manner of the settlers, where the fruit 
was so plenty and the market so far out of reach ; 
then, between long drafts of the delicious pulp, 
he explained that certain things, melons for 
example, flourished better on the virgin soil of 
the sod than elsewhere. 

" Another year or so," he said, " and you will 
never see on this patch of land such melons as 
these. They will never do so well again on this 
soil as this year. I never saw such big melons as 
these, and if we had planted them a little nearer 
together, I don't in the least doubt that any 
smart boy, like Sandy here, could walk all over 
the field, stepping from one melon to another, if 
he only had a pole to balance himself with as he 
walked. There would be nothing very wonder- 
ful-like about that. It 's a pity that we have no 
use for these, there are so many of them and the}' 
are so good. Pity some of the folks at home 
have n't a few of them — a hundred or two, for 

It did seem a great waste of good things that 
these hundreds and hundreds of great water- 
melons should decay on the ground for lack of 
somebody to eat them. In the very wantonness 
of their plenty, the settlers had been accustomed 
to break open two or three of the finest of the 
fruit before they could satisfy themselves that 
they had got one of the best. Even then, they 
only took the choicest parts, leaving the rest to 
the birds. By night, too, the coyotes, or prairie- 
wolves, mean and sneaking things that they 
were, would steal down into the melon-patch 
and, in the desperation of their hunger, nose into 
the broken melons left by the settlers, and at- 
tempt to drag away some of the fragments, all 
the time uttering their fiendish yelps and howls. 

Somebody had told the boys that the juice 
of watermelons boiled to a thick syrup was 
a very good substitute for rnolasses. Younkins 
told them that, back in old Missouri, " many 
families never had any other kind of sweetenin' 
in the house than watermelon molasses." So 
Charlie made an experiment with the juice boiled 
until it was pretty thick. All hands tasted it, 
and all hands voted that it was very poor stuff". 
They decided that they could not make their 
superabundance of watermelons useful except 
as an occasional refreshment. 

Chaptkr XV. 


The two cabins built, wood for the winter 
cut and hauled, and the planting all done, there 
was now nothing left to do but to wait and see 
the crop ripen. Their good friend Younkins 
was in the same fortunate condition, and he was 
ready to suggest, to the intense delight of the 
boys, that they might be able to run into a herd 
of buffalo, if they should take a notion to follow 
the old Indian trail out to the feeding-grounds. 
In those days, there w;as no hunting west of the 
new setdement, except that of the Indians. In 
that vague and mysterious way by which reports 
travel — in the air, as it were — among all fron- 
tier settlements, they had heard that buffalo 
were plenty in the vast ranges to the westward, 
the herds moving slowly northward, grazing as 
they went. It was now the season of wild 
game, and so the boys were sent across to 
Younkins's to ask him what he thought of a 
buftalo-hunting trip. 

Reaching his cabin, the good woman of the 
house told them that he had gone into the tall 
timber near by, thinking he heard some sort 
of wild birds in the underbrush. He had 
taken his gun with him ; in fact, Younkins was 
seldom seen without his gun, except when he 
was at work in the fields. The boys gleefully 
followed Younkins's trail into the forest, making 
for an opening about a half-mile away, where 
Mrs. Younkins thought he was most likely to be 
found. " Major," the big yellow dog, a special 
pet of Sandy's, accompanied them, although his 
mistress vainly tried to coax him back. Major 
was fond of boys' society. 



•■ There 's Younkins now," cried Oscar, as 
they drew near an opening in the wood into 
which the hot sunHght poured. Younkins was 
half crouching and cautiously making his way 
into the nearer side of the opening, and the boys, 
knowing that he was on the track of game, 
silently drew near, afraid of disturbing the 
hunter or the hunted. Suddenly Major, catch- 
ing sight of the game, bounded forward with a 
loud bark into the tangle of berry bushes and 

and that lunkhead of a dog must needs dash 
in and scare 'em up. It 's too pesky blamed 
bad ! " 

The boys were greatly mortified at the disas- 
ter that they had brought upon Younkins and 
Major by bringing the dog out with them. But 
when Chariie, as the eldest, explained that they 
had no idea that Major would work mischief, 
Younkins said, " Never mind, boys, for you 
did not know what was going on-like." 

vines. There was a confused noise of wings, a 
whistle of alarm which also sounded like the 
gobble of a turkey, and four tremendous birds 
rose up, and with a motion that was partly a 
run and partly a flying, they disappeared into 
the depths of the forest. To their intense sur- 
prise, the usually placid Younkins turned sav- 
agely upon the dog, and, sapng, " Drat that 
fool dog ! " fired one barrel loaded with fine 
bird-shot into poor Major. 

" Four as fine turkeys as you ever saw in 
your life I " he explained as if in apology to 
the boys. " I was sure of at least two of 'em ; 

Younkins, ashamed, apparently, of his burst 
of temper, stooped down and, discovering that 
Major's wounds were not very serious, extracted 
the shot, plucked a few leaves of some plant 
that he seemed to know all about, and pressed 
the juice into the wounds made by the shot. 
The boys looked on with silent admiration. 
This man knew everj'thing, they thought. They 
had often marveled to see how easily and uner- 
ringly he found his way through woods, streams, 
and over prairies ; now he showed them another 
gift ; he was a " natural bom doctor." as his wife 
proudly said of him. 


•• Xo wild turkey for supper to-night," said 
Younkins, as he picked up his shot-gun and 
returned with the boys to the cabin. He was 
" right glad," he said, to agree to go on a buf- 
falo hunt, if the rest of the party would like to 
go. He knew there must be buffalo off to the 
westward. He went with Mr. Fuller and Mr. 
Battles last year, about this time, and they had 
great luck. He would come over that evening 
and set a date with the other men for starting 
out together. 

Elated with this ready consent of Younkins, 
the lads went across the ford, eager to tell their 
elders the story of the wild turkeys and poor 
Major's exploit. Sandy, carrying his shot-gun 
on his shoulder, lingered behind while the other 
two boys hurried up the trail to the log-cabin. 
He fancied that he heard a noise as of ducks 
quacking, in the creek that emptied into the 
Fork just below the ford. So, making his way 
softly to the densely wooded bank of the creek, 
he parted the branches with great caution and 
looked in. What a sight it was ! At least fifty 
tine black ducks were swimming around, feed- 
ing and quacking sociably together, entirely 
unconscious of the wide-open blue eyes that 
were staring at them from behind the covert of 
the thicket. Sandy thought them even more 
wonderful and beautiful than the young fawn 
and its dam that he had seen on the Fort Riley 
trail. For a moment, fascinated by the rare 
spectacle, he gazed wonderingly at the ducks 
as they swam around, chasing each other and 
eagerly hunting for food. It was but for a 
moment, however. Then he raised his shot-gun, 
and, taking aim into the thickest of the flock, 
fired both barrels in quick succession. Instantly 
the gay clamor of the pretty creatures ceased, 
and the flock rose with a loud whirring of wings 
and wheeled away over the tree-tops. The 
surface of the water, to Sandy's excited imagi- 
nation, seemed to be fairly covered with birds, 
some dead and some strugghng with wounded 
limbs. The other two boys, startled by the 
double report from Sandy's gun, came scamper- 
ing down the trail, just as the lad, all excitement, 
was stripping off his clothes to wade into the 
creek for his game. 

" Ducks ! Black ducks ! I 've shot a mil- 
lion of 'em ! " cried the boy, exultingly : and in 

another instant he plunged into the water up to 
his middle, gathering the ducks by the legs and 
bringing them to the bank, where Charlie and 
Oscar, discreetly keeping out of the oozy creek, 
received them, counting the birds as they threw 
them on the grass. 

" Eighteen, all told 1 " shouted Oscar, when 
the last bird had been caught, as it floundered 
about among the weeds, and brought ashore. 

'■ I2ighteen ducks in two shots ! " cried Sandy, 
his freckled face fairly beaming with delight. 
" Did ever anybody see such luck ? " 

They all thought that nobody ever had. 

" What 's that on your leg ? " asked Oscar, 
stooping to pick from Sandy's leg a long, brown 
object looking like a flat worm. To the boys' 
intense astonishment, the thing would not come 
off, but stretched out to several inches in length, 
holding on by one end. 

Sandy howled with pain. " It is something 
that bites," he cried. 

" And there 's another, and another ! Why, 
he 's covered all over with 'em I " exclaimed 

Sure enough, the lad's legs, if not exactly 
covered, were well sprinkled with the things. 

" Scrape 'em oft' with your knife ! " cried 

Oscar usually carried a sheath-knife at his 
belt, more for " the style of the thing, than use," 
he explained ; so with this he quickly took off 
the repulsive creatures, which, loosening their 
hold, dropped to the ground limp and shapeless. 

" Leeches," said Charlie, briefly, as he poked 
one of them over with a stick. The mystery 
was explained, and wherever one of them had 
been attached to the boy's tender skin, blood 
flowed freely for a few minutes and then ceased. 
Even on one or two of the birds they found a 
leech adhering to the feathers where the poor 
thing's blood had followed the shot. Picking 
up the game, the three boys joyfully escorted 
the elated Sandy to the cabin, where his unex- 
pected adventures made him the hero of the 

" Could n't we catch some of those leeches 
and sell them to the doctors ? " asked the prac- 
tical Oscar. 

His father shook his head. "American wild 
leeches like those are not good for much, my 


son. I don't know why not ; but I have been 
told that only the imported leeches are used b)- 
medical men." 

" Well," said Sandy, tenderly rubbing his 
wounded legs, " if imported leeches can bite 
any more furiously than these Kansas ones do, 
I don't want any of them to tackle me ! I sup- 
pose these were hungry, though, not ha\-ing had 
a taste of a fresh Illinois boy, lately. But they 
did n't make much out of me, after all." 

Very happy were those three boys, that even- 
ing, as, filled with roast wild duck, they sat by 
and heard their elders discuss with Younkins 
the details of the grand buffalo hunt that was 
now to be organized. Younkins had seen Mr. 
Fuller, who had agreed to make one of the 
party. So there would be four men and the 
three boys to compose the expedition. They 
were to take two horses. Fuller's and Younkins's, 
to serve as pack-animals, for the way to the 
hunting-ground might be long; but the hunt- 
ing was to be done on foot. Younkins was ver\ 
sure that they would have no difficulty in get- 
ting near enough to shoot ; the animals had not 
been hunted much in those parts at that time, 
and the Indians kill them on foot verj' often. 
If Indians could do that, why could not white 
men ? 

The next two days were occupied in prepara- 
tions for the expedition, to the great delight of 
the boys, who recalled with amusement some- 
thing of a similar feeling that they had when 
they were preparing for their trip to Kansas, long 
ago, away back in Di.xon. How far oft' that all 
seemed now ! Now they were in the promised 
land and were going out to hunt for big game 
— buftalo I It seemed too good to be true. 

Bread was made and baked ; smoked side- 
meat, and pepper and salt made ready and 
packed ; a few potatoes taken as a luxurj' in 
camp-life ; blankets, guns, and ammunition pre- 
pared ; and, above all, plenty of coffee already 
browned and ground svas packed for use. It 
was a merry and a buoyant company that started 
out in the early dawn of a September morning, 
having snatched a hasty breakfast of which the 
excited boys had scarcely time to taste. Buffalo 
beef, they confidently said, was their favorite 
meat. They would dine on buffalo hump, that 
very day. 

Oscar, more cautious than the others, asked 
Younkins if they were sure to see buftalo soon. 

" Surely," replied he ; "I was out to the bend 
of the Fork just above the blufts, last nighi, and 
the plains were just full of 'em, just simply 
black-like, as it were." 

" What ? " exclaimed all three boys in a breath. 
■■ Plains fuU of them and you did n't even men- 
tion it ! What a funny man you are." 

Mr. Howell reminded them that Mr. Youn- 
kins had been accustomed to see buftalo for so 
long that he did not think it anything worth 
mentioning that he had seen vast numbers of 
the creatures already. So, as they pressed on, 
the boys strained their eyes in the distance, look- 
ing for buftalo. But no animals greeted their 
sight, as they passed over the long green swales 
of the prairie, mile after mile, now rising to 
the top of a httle eminence and now sinking 
into a shallow valley ; but occasionally a sneak- 
ing, stealthy coyote would noiselessly trot into 
view, and then, after cautiously surveying them 
from a distance, disappear, as Sandy said, " as 
if he had sunk into a hole in the ground." It 
was in vain that they attempted to get near 
enough to one of these war)' animals to warrant 
a shot. It is only by great good luck that any- 
body ever shoots a coyote, although in countries 
where they abound every man's hand is against 
them ; they are such arrant thieves, as well as 

But at noon, while the little party was taking 
a luncheon in the shade of a sohtar)- birch that 
grew by the side of a little creek, or runlet. 
Sandy, the irrepressible, with his bread and meat 
in his hand, darted off" to the next roll of the 
prairie, a high and sweUing hill, in fact, " to see 
what he could see." As soon as the lad had 
reached the highest part of the swale, he turned 
around and swung his arms excitedly, too far 
off to make his voice heard. He jumped up 
and down, whirled his arms, and acted altogether 
like a young lunatic. 

•• The boy sees buffalo," said Younkins, with 
a smile of calm amusement. He could hardly 
understand why anybody should be excited over 
so commonplace a matter. But the other two 
lads were oft" like a shot in Sandy's direction. 
Reaching their comrade, they found him in a 
state of great agitation. " Oh. look at 'em 1 



Look at 'em ! Millions on millions ! Did any- 
body ever see the like ! " 

Perhaps Sandy's estimate of the numbers was 
a little exaggerated, but it really was a wonder- 
ful sight. The rolls of the prairie, four or five 
miles away, were dark with the vast and slow- 
moving herds that were passing over, their gen- 
eral direction being toward the spot on which 
the boys were standing. Now and again, some 
animals strayed off in broken parties, but for the 
most part the phalanx seemed to be solid, so 
solid that the green of the earth was completely 
hidden by the dense herd. 

The boys stood rooted to the spot with 
the intensity of their wonder and delight. If 
there were not millions in that vast army of buf- 
falo, there were certainly hundreds of thousands. 
What would happen if that great army should 
suddenly take a notion to gallop furiously in 
their direction ? 

" You need n't whisper so," said Charlie, no- 
ticing the awe-struck tones of the youngsters. 
" They can't hear you, away off there. Why, 
the very nearest of the herd cannot be less than 
five miles off; and they would run from us, 
rather than toward us, if they were to see and 
hear us." 

" I asked Younkins if he ever had any trouble 
with a buffalo when he was hunting, and what 
do you suppose he said ? " asked Oscar, who had 
recovered his voice. " Well, he said that once he 
was out on horseback, and had cornered a young 
buffalo bull in among some limestone ledges up 
there on the Upper Fork, and ' the critter turned 
on him and made a nasty noise with his mouth- 
like,' so that he was glad to turn and run. 
' Nasty noise with his mouth,' I suppose was a 
sort of a snort — a snort-like, as Younkins would 
say. There come the rest of the folks. My ! 
won't daddy be provoked that we did n't go 
back and help hitch up ! " 

But the elders of the party had not forgotten 
that they were once boys themselves, and when 
they reached the point on which the lads stood 
surveying the sight, they also were stirred to en- 
thusiasm. The great herd was still moving on, 
the dark folds of the moving mass undulating 
like the waves of a sea, as the buffalo rose and 
fell upon the surface of the rolling prairie. 

As if the leaders had spied the hunters, the 

main herd now swung away more to the right, 
or northward, only a few detached parties com- 
ing toward the little group of hunters that still 
watched them silently from its elevated point 
of observation. 

Younkins surveyed the movement critically 
and then announced it as his opinion that the 
herd was bound for the waters of the Republi- 
can Fork, to the right and somewhat to the 
northward of the party. The best course for 
them to take now would be to try and cut off 
the animals before they could reach the river. 
There was a steep and bluffy bank at the point 
for which the buffalo seemed to be aiming ; that 
would divert them further up stream, and if the 
hunters could only creep along in the low gullies 
of the prairie, out of the sight of the herd, they 
might reach the place where the buffalo would 
cross before they could get there ; for the herd 
moved slowly ; an expert walker could far out- 
travel them in a direct Hne. 

" One of you boys will have to stay here bv 
the stuff; the rest of us will press on in the 
direction of the river as fast as may be," said 
Uncle Aleck. The boys looked at each other 
in dismay. Who would be willing to be left 
behind in a chase so exciting as this ? Sandy 
bravely .solved the puzzle. 

" Here, you take my shot-gun, Charlie," he 
said. " It carries farther than yours ; I '11 stay 
by the stuff and the horses ; I 'm pretty tired, 
anyhow." His father smiled approvingly but 
said nothing. He knew how great a sacrifice 
the boy was making for the others. 

Left alone on the hill-top, for the rest of the 
party moved silently and swiftly away to the 
northward, Sandy felt the bitterness of disap- 
pointment as well as of loneliness while he sat 
on the grass watching with absorbed attention 
the motions of the great herds. All trace of his 
companions was soon lost as they passed down 
into the gullies and ravines that broke the ground 
adjacent to the Fork to the westward of the 
stream. Once, indeed, he saw the figures of 
the hunters, painted dark against the sky, rise 
over a distant swale and disappear just as one 
of them turned and waved a signal in dumb 
show to the solitary watcher on the hill. 

" If those buffalo should get stampeded." 
mused Sandy, " and make a break in this way, it 


would be • all day ' with those horses and the camp 
stuff. I guess I had better make all fast, for there 
may be a gale of wind, or a gale of buffalo, which 
is the same thing." So sajing, the thoughtful lad 
led the animals do«-n into the gully where the 
noon luncheon had been taken, removed their 
packs, tethered them to the tree, and then ran 
back to the hill-top and resumed his watch. 

There was no change in the situation e.xcept 
that there were, if possible, more buffalo moving 
over the distant slopes of the rolling prairie. 
The boy stood entranced at the sight. More, 
more, and yet more of the herds were slowly 
moNing into sight and then disappearing in the 
gullies below. The dark bro^\Ti folds seemed to 
envelop the face of the earth. Sandy wondered 
where so many creatures could find pasturage. 
Their bodies appeared to cover the hiUs and 
valleys, so that there could not be room left for 
grazing. " They ' ve got such big feet," he solilo- 
quized aloud, " that I should think that the 
ground would be all pawed up where they have 
traveled." In the ecstasy of his admiration, he 
walked to and fro on the hill-top, talking to 
himself, as was his wont. 

•• I wonder if the other fellows can see them 
as I do ? " he asked. " I don't believe, after 
all, that it is one-half so entertaining for them 
as it is for me. Oh, I just wish the folks at 
home could be here now, and see this sight ! 
It beats all nature, as Father DLxon used to say. 
And to think that there are thousands of people 
in big cities who don't have meat enough to 
eat. And all this buffalo-meat running wild ! " 
The boy laughed to himself at the comicahty 
of the thought. Fresh beef nmning mid ! 

The faint report of a gun fired afar oft" 
now reached his ear and he saw a blue puff of 
smoke rising from the crest of a timber-bordered 
hill far away. The herd in that direction seemed 
to swer\-e somewhat and scatter, but, to his 
intense surprise, there w-as no hurr)' in their 
movements ; the brown and black folds of the 
great mass of animals still slowly and sluggishly 
spread out and flowed like the tides of the sea, 
enveloping ever)thing. Suddenly there was 
another report, then another, and another. 
Three shots in quick succession. 

" Now they are getting in their work I '" 
shouted the boy, fairly dancing up and down 


in his excitement. '■ Oh, I wish I was there 
instead of here looking on ! " 

Xow the herds wavered for a moment, then 
their general direction was changed from the 
northward to the eastward. Then there was a 
swift and sudden movement of the whole mass, 
and the vast dark stream flowed in a direction 
parallel with the Fork instead of toward it. as 

" They are coming this way ! " shouted Sandy 
to the emptj", silent air around him. " I '11 get 
a shot at 'em yet ! " Then, suddenly recollect- 
ing that his gim had been exchanged for his 
brothers, he added, " And CharUe's gun is no 
good ! " 

In truth, the herd was now bound straight for 
the hill on which the boy maintained his soli- 
tary watch. Swiftly nmning down to the gully 
in which the horses were tethered. Sandy got 
out his brother's gun and carefully examined 
the caps and the load. They had run some 
hea\-y slugs of lead in a rude mold which they 
had made, the slug being just the size of the 
barrel of the shot-gim. One barrel was loaded 
with a heavy charge of buckshot, and the other 
with a slug. The latter was an experiment, 
and a big slug like that could not be expected 
to carry very far ; it might, however, do much 
damage at short range. 

Running up to the head of the gully, which 
was in the nature of a shallow ra\Tne draining 
the hill above, Sandy emerged on the highest 
point of land, a few hundred feet to the right 
and north of his former post of observation. 
The herd was in full drive directly toward him. 
Suppose they should come dridng down over 
the hills where he was! They would sweep 
down into the gully, stampede the horses, and 
trample all the camp-stuff into bits ! The boy 
fairly shook with excitement as the idea struck 
him. On they came, the solid ground shaking 
under their thundering tread. 

" I must try to head 'em off," said the boy to 
himself " The least I can do is to scare them 
a good bit. and then they '11 split in two and the 
herd will di\-ide right here. But I must get a 
shot at one. or the other fellows will laugh 
at me." 

The rushing herd was headed right for the 
spot where Sandy stood, spreading out to the 


left and right, but with the center of the pha- 
lanx steering in a bee-line for the lad. Thor- 
oughly alarmed now, Sandy looked around, 
and perceiving a sharp outcropping of the 
underlying stratum of limestone at the head 
of the little ravine, he resolved to shelter him- 
self behind that, in case the buffalo should con- 
tinue to come that way. Notwithstanding his 
excitement, the lad did not fail to note two 
discharges, one after the other, in the distance, 
showing that his friends were still keeping up a 
fusillade against the flying herds. 

At the second shot, Sandy thought that the 
masses in the rear swung off more to the south- 
ward, as if panic-stricken by the firing, but the 
advance guard still maintained a straight line 
for him. There was no escape from it now, 
and Sandy looked down at the two horses teth- 
ered in the ravine below, peacefully grazing the 
.short thick grass, unconscious of the flood of 
buftalo now undularing over the prairie above 
them and soon to swoop down over the hillside 
where they were. In another instant, the lad 
could see the tossing, shaggy manes of the 
leaders of the herd and could even distinguish 
the redness of their eyes as they swept up the 
incline at the head of which he stood. He 
hastily dodged behind the crag of rock ; it was 
a small aftair, hardly higher than his head, but 
wide enough, he thought, to divide the herd 
when they came to it. So he ducked behind it 
and waited for coming events. 

Sandy was right. Just above the rock be- 
hind which he was crouched, the ground fell 
oft" rapidly and left a stift" slope, up which e\en 
a stampeded buflalo would hardly climb. The 
ground trembled as the vast army of living 
creatures came tumbling and thundering over 
the prairie. Sandy, stooping behind the out- 
cropping, also trembled, partly with excitement 
and partly with fear. If the buffalo were to 
]3lunge over the very small barrier between him 
and them, his fate was sealed. For an instant, 
his heart stood still. It was but for an instant, 
for, before he could draw a long breath, the 
herd parted on the two sides of the little crag. 
The divided stream poured down on both sides 
of him, a tumultuous, broken and disorderly 
torrent of animals, making no sound except for 
the ceaseless beat of their tremendous hoofs. 

Sandy's eyes swam with the bewildering mo- 
tion of the living stream. For a brief space, 
he saw nothing but a confused mass of heads, 
backs and horns, hundreds of thousands flow- 
ing tumultuously past. Gradually, his sense of 
security came back to him, and, exulting in his 
safety, he raised his gun, and muttering under 
his breath, " Right behind the fore-shoulder- 
like, Younkins said," he took steady aim and 
fired. A young buftalo bull tumbled headlong 
down the ravine. In their mad haste, a num- 
ber of the animals fell over him, pell-mell ; but, 
recovering themselves with incredible swiftness, 
they skipped to their feet and were speedily on 
their way down the hill. Sandy watched, with 
a beating heart, the young bull as he fell heels 
over head two or three times before he could 
rally ; the poor creature got upon his feet, fell 
again, and while the tender-hearted boy hesi- 
tated whether to fire the second barrel or not, 
finally fell over on his side helpless. 

Meanwhile, the ranks of buflalo coming behind 
swerved from the fallen animal to the left and 
right, as if by instinct, leaving an open space 
all around the point where the boy stood gazing 
at his fallen game. He fired, almost at random, 
at the nearest of the flying buftalo, but the buck- 
shot whistled hurtlessly among the herd, and 
Sandy thought to himself that it was dowiuright 
cruelty to shoot among them, for the scattering 
shot would onlv wound without killing the ani- 

It was safe now for Sandy to emerge from 
his place of concealment, and, standing on the 
rocky point behind which he had been hidden, 
he gazed to the west and north. The tumbling 
masses of buftalo were scattered far apart. Here 
and there, he could see wide stretches of prairie, 
no longer green, but trampled into a dull brown 
by the tread of myriads of hurrying feet ; and, 
far to the north, the land was clear, as if the 
main herd had passed down to the southward. 
Scattered bands still hurried along above him, 
here and there, nearer to the Fork, but the main 
herd had gone on in the general direction of the 
settlers' home. 

" What if they have gone down to our cabin ? " 
he muttered aloud. " It 's all up with any corn- 
field that they run across. But, then, they must 
have kept too far to the south to get anywhere 




near our claim." And the lad consoled himself 
with this reflection. 

But his game was more engrossing of his at- 
tention, just now. than anything else. He had 
been taught that an animal should not bleed to 

■• Well done, Sandy '■ " The boy started, turned 
and beheld his cousin Oscar gazing open- 
mouthed at the spectacle. " And did you shoot 
him, all by 3-our ver}- own self? What with ? 
Charlie's gun ? " The lad poured forth a tor- 

death through a gunshot wound. His big leaden rent of questions, and Sandy proudly answered 
slug had ijone directly through the buffalo's them all with. " That is what I did." 


vitals somewhere, for it was now quite dead. 
Sandv stood beside the noble beast with a strange 
elation, looking at it before he could make up 
his mind to cut its throat and let out the 
blood. It was a yearling bull buffalo that lay 
before him, the short, sharp horns plowed into 
the ground and the massive form, so lately bound- 
ing over the rolling prairie, forever still. To 
Sandy, it all seemed like a dream ; it had come 
and gone so quickly. His heart misgave him 
as he looked, for Sandy had a tender heart. 
Then he gentiy touched the animal with the 
toe of his boot and cried, '■ All by my own 
self! " 

As the two boys himg with delight over the 
prostrate beast, Oscar told the tale of disap- 
pointment that the others had to relate. They 
had gone up the ra\'ines that skirted the Fork, 
prowling on their hands and knees; but the 
watchers of the herd were too wan,- to let the 
hunters get near enough for a good shot. They 
had fired several times, but had brought down 
nothing. Sandy had heard the shots ? Yes. 
Sandy had heard and had hoped that somebody 
was ha\-ing great sport. After all, he thought, as 
he looked at the fallen monarch of the prairie, 
it was rather cruel business. Oscar did not 
think so : he wished he had had such luck. 



The rest of the party now came up, one after 
another, and all gave a whoop of astonishment 
and delight at Sandy's great success as soon as 
they saw his noble quarry. 

The sun was now low in the west ; here was 
a good place for camping ; a little brush would 
do for firing, and water was close at hand. So 
the tired hunters, after a brief rest while they 
lay on the tram])led grass and recounted the 
doings of the day, went to work at the game. 
The animal was dressed and a few choice pieces 
were hung on the tree to cool for their supper. 
It was dark when they gathered around their 
cheerful fire, as the cool autumnal evening came 
on, and cooked and ate with infinite zest their 
first buftalo-meat. Boys who have never been 
hungry with the hunger of a long tramp over 
the prairies, hungry for their first taste of big 
game of their own shooting, cannot possibly 
understand how good to the Boy Settlers was 
their supper on the wind-swept slopes of the 
Kansas plains. 

Wrapping themselves as best they could in 
the blankets and buffalo-robes brought from 
home, the party lay down in the nooks and 
corners of the ravine, first securing the buffalo 
meat on the tree that made their camp. 

" What, for goodness' sake, is that ? " asked 
Charlie, querulously, as he was roused out of 
his sleep by a dismal cry not far away in the 

" Wolves," said Younkins, curtly, as he raised 
himself on one elbow to listen. " The pesky 
critters have smelt blood ; they would smell it 
if they were twenty miles off, I do believe, and 
they are gathering round as they scent the 

By this, all of the party were awake except 
Sandy, who, worn out with excitement perhaps, 

( T,i bt c, 

slept on through all the fearful din. The mean 
litde prairie-wolves gathered, and barked and 
snarled in the distance. Nearer, the big wolves 
howled like great dogs, their long howl occa- 
sionally breaking into a bark ; and farther and 
farther off, away in the extremest distance, they 
could hear other wolves whose hollow-sounding 
cry seemed like an echo of their more fortunate 
brethren nearer the game. A party of the crea- 
tures were busy at the oftal from the slain buftalo, 
just without the range of the firelight, for the 
camp-fire had been kept alight. Into the strug- 
gling, snarling group Younkins discharged his 
rifle. There was a sharp yell of pain, a confused 
patter of hurrying feet, and in an instant all 
was still. 

Sandy started up. " Who 's shot another 
buffalo ? " he asked, as if struggling with a 
dream. The others laughed, and Charlie ex- 
plained what had been going on, and the tired 
boy lay down to sleep again. But that was not 
a re.stful night for any of the campers. The 
wolves renewed their howling. The hunters 
were able to snatch only a few breaths of sleep 
from time to time, in moments when the dismal 
ululation of the wolf-chorus subsided. The sun 
rose, flooding the rolling prairies with a wealth 
of golden sunshine. The weary campers looked 
over the expanse around them, but not a rem- 
nant of the rejected remains of the buftalo was 
to be seen ; and in all the landscape about, no 
sign of any living thing was in sight, save where 
some early-rising jack-rabbit scudded over the 
torn sod, hunting for his breakfast. 

Fresh air, bright sunlight, and a dip in a cool 
stream are the best correctives for a head heavy 
with want of sleep ; and the hunters, refreshed 
by these and a pot of strong and steaming 
coffee, were soon ready for another day's sport. 


By a. C. 

Reverse the last two figures of this present 
year of grace, and you will have the date of a 
period which saw many otherwise sane men in 
France, England, and America given over to 
an absurd craze for riding " hobby-horses," 
and there are doubtless a number of venera- 
ble old gentlemen still li\'ing who could tell of 
memories, and perhaps even recall personal ex- 
periences, of the time seventy years ago when 
young men made spectacles of themselves by 
propelUng these machines through the streets 
of old New York. 

The grandsons of those same ^■enerable gen- 
tlemen now propel wheels along the streets of 
the New York of to-day, but in a manner as 
ditlerent, almost, as flpng differs from walking. 
In fact, if, by some " presto-change ! " of time 

and circumstance, one of these wide-awake 
grandsons could come suddenly upon a group 
of his ancestors engaged as the artist has shown 
them in the accompanying picture, he would 
probably conclude that they had taken leave 
of their senses, and hurl after them a scornful 
" Go it. Gaiters ! Cranks ! Cranks I " 

And in so expressing his candid opinion 
in nineteenth-century slang, — which would be 
quite wrong, of course, — he would unconscious- 
ly have named the good Anglo-Saxon word 
for an idea that in the course of time was to 
transform the machines thus arousing his ridi- 
cule, into the pet and pride of his boyish heart 
— the bicycle. For, the idea of '-cranks" — 
in the mechanical sense — was precisely that 
which, occurring to an ingenious Frenchman, 

gradually, along with other changes, new ad- 
justments, and improvements, covering a perioil 
of many years, transformed the ungainly hobby- 
horse of 1819 into that perfect product of 
mechanical art, the bicycle of 1891. 

The first rudimentary bicycle was mounted 
by Baron von Drais, a Frenchman living in 
Germany, who, early in this century, invented 
a combination of two wheels, a seat, and han- 
dles, which he called a " celerifere," to aid him 
in his work of overseeing large estates. 

The old cuts of this odd machine, called, after 
the inventor, the " Draisine," show it to be in 
its general features the direct forerunner of the 
hobby-horse. " Draisines " were introduced into 
England in i8i8, and a year later they were 
seen in America, on the streets of New York. 

In both countries they met with great favor, 
and one historian relates that in New York 
" people rode them up and dow'n the Bower}-, 
and on the parks, a favorite place for speed 
being the down grade from Chatham Street 
to City Hall Park." Clumsy machines they 
seem to our eyes, — two heavy wheels con- 
nected by a cross-bar to which was attached 
midway the cushioned seat for the rider. In 
front of the seat was a raised cushion upon 
w-hich, handles in hand, the rider rested his 
forearms, guiding the machine. He propelled 
it by pushing alternately with his feet on the 
ground until the speed was sufficient to maintain 
equilibrium, when he would raise his feet and, 
in the words of a rider of to-day, "coast." 

The rage for these " Draisines," and " pe- 
destrian curricles," or " dandy-horses " and 
" hobby-horses," as the later " improved " ma- 
chines were called, subsided rapidly because of 
the difficulty of making them practically useful, 


and because of the ridicule always e.\cited by 
the riders. 

This curious sport of riding two wheels, 
joined, and running in the same perpendicu- 
lar plane, therefore languished in obscurity 
until after a lapse of more than forty years it 
again attracted pubhc attention in a new form. 
It was in 1865 that a French mechanic, Pierre 
Lallemant, conceived the notion of attaching 
foot-cranks to the front wheel of the old- 
fashioned hobby-horse. He made a machine 
embodying this idea, learned to ride it, and 
exhibited it at the Paris Exposition in 1867. 
The credit for this invention is also claimed in 
England for Edward Oilman, but be the honor 
due to Frenchman or Englishman, here, at all 
events, was the immediate predecessor of the 
bicycle. It immediately became popular in 
both England and America. A great many 
improvements and changes were necessary, of 
course, before the crude machine of Lallemant 
— the "velocipede" of thirty years ago — be- 
came the finished bicycle of to-day, but ener- 
getic business men in England, and later in 
this country, saw its possibilities and began the 
manufacture of the machines. Improvement has 
followed improvement, until now there is little 
resemblance left to the old velocipede, or " bone- 
shaker " as it was flippantly called, and it is 
difficult to imagine in what way a modern bi- 
cycle may be improved. One step further is 
possible in the way of change, and that is to 
discard the small wheel altogether and ride 
only the big wheel. Indeed, this has already 
been done in exhibitions by a few adventurous 
experts, but before the method becomes general 
we may have learned to fly outright, and wheels 
have become a drug in the market. 



By Margaret Tohxsox. 

A FEAST, I have read. 

There was recently spread. 
WTiere this novel arrangement existed : 

Each fortunate guest, 

^A'hen his choice he expressed. 
To his favorite dish was assisted 

Said Mikey Maguire, 
As he sat by the fire. 
'• Faith thin, but it 's warm- 
in', the hate is ! 
An' shure, for a parrty 
Av appetoite heamy, 
•■ There 's nothin' quite ay- 
qual to praties I " 

•• Ach ! Donner und 
Bliu : " 
Cried fat little Friu, 
Regarding his neighbor 

so bony, 
" Dot poy vas so droll ! 
I vould gif der whole 
For von leedle bite of 
Bolognj- 1 ■' 

The fair Oimii San 
Waved her beautiful 

As she smiled his en- 
jo)Tnent to see. 
She would taste of no 

Save an entree offish. 
But she ne\er once stop- 
ped drinking tea '. 

" Me velly hong^^- .' " 
Said the guileless 
Chung Se, 
With an e\'ident yearn- 
ing for rice. 
He smiled and he 

And his chopsticks 
And was ready for more 
in a trice. 

In a serious mood 
Hans, the Eskimo, 

Some strips of what 

might have been 

rubber : 
But when the)- in- 
Whether aught he 

He said he wished 

nothing but 


'• Carissima mia ! " 
Cried little Maria, 
■ Nothing-a zo lofely as 
dese ; " 
And she fondly 

On the table dis- 
Her beloved maca- 
roni and cheese. 


'• Aweel an' aweel," 

Said Jamie MacNeil, 

O' whimseys an' freaks 

there's a mony! 

But naethin' I know 

Like the oatmeal I 


To make a braw lad 

an' a bonny ! " 

Mustapha, the bland, 
\Vith a wave of his 

Declined to partake of 

the feast, 
Till the coffee was 

served ; 
\Mien he \'isibly 

And drank twenty cups, 

at the least. 

Quoth brave Johnny 

With his mouth 
rather full, 
And his waist with a 

napkin begirt, 
" Of dainties the chief. 
Is the noble roast 
With plum-pudding, of 
course, for des- 
sert 1 " 

'■ O noil .' " cried 
With a shrug of 
' I \\ish but a morceau 
Nothing hot, /// 
votis plait. 
But some water 
.\nd a bonbon, Jc 
7'oiis reiiwnu' .'" 

'• Jes' hab yo' own 
Said George Wash- 
ington Clay, 
An' go 'long wid dose 
Dar 's nuffin' lak 

dis I " 
And chuckling with 
He extinguished him- 
self in a melon ! 

" Wal, mebbe you 're right," 
Observed Jonathan Bright, 

With a wink of his 

merry young eye ; 

" But for all you 're 

so knowin', 

The dish ain't a- 

k!i- goin' 

Can come up, I reckon, 
\, to pie ! " 

Vol.. XVIIL— 39. 



All up and down the greeny grass 
The sheep in flocks together pass ; 
With nibbhng noses hills are sown 
And where they go the sod is mown. 

With thick-set tails a;wag behind — 
They roam or nibble with one mind ; 
And if one lifts his head on high 
All other heads at once up fly ; 

)HN Albek. 

As stones in fiekl, then stand they still ; 
Or run they all with single will ; 
And whether there is aught to leap, 
All jump if jump the leader sheep. 

Where learned the simple sheep such ways 
No one had told in ancient days ; 
But now .some think they learned them when 
The silly sheep were silly men. 


Bv J. C). Davidson. 

Chapter I. 


^T is midnight on the great Chinese 
river. The silver moon rides 
placidly in the dusky heavens, 
the circular halo aroimd it 
fading away in the damp 
cold mist which thickens as 
it approaches the water's surface until the hori- 
zon is hid in a .soft and feathery pall. Nothing 
is to be seen, save the passing cormorant sailing 
slowly over the river, or the occasional flash of 
a fish breaking its surface ; and nothing is heard 
but the murmur of the vast body of water as it 
moves grandly on within its distant and invisible 

Presently, growing out of the misty channel 
up stream, a dark object appears. It looms 
large and vague, like some huge bird or bat with 
outstretched wings resting on the water ; but as 
it sweeps majestically do\\Ti the river, it shapes 
itself clear and distinct against the background 
of mist and soon displays the tall tapering masts 
and heavy sails of a native trading-junk. As a 
light gleams suddenly from behind her sail a 
group of dark figures is revealed. They are 
sailors ; some seated, others lying asleep on the 
deck. One keeps watch at the bow, while two 
more, on the high stern aft, handle the tiller and 
guide the great junk on her silent way. 

One of the men at the helm is a tall and 
powerful man whose hair is gray. He is dressed 
as a common sailor, but a moonbeam's glint 
on the butt of a pistol and the handle of a 
short sword at his side shows him to be of some 
rank above that indicated by his dress. His 
companion, more slender and decidedly youth- 
ful, is dressed in white duck, and wears a broad- 
brimmed hat. He stands peering anxiously 
forward into the gloom, occasionally sweeping 
their limited horizon with a night-glass. 

Presently the silence is broken by the taller, 
who, quietly pointing under the bend of a sail, 
whispers, " Can that be their light, sir ? I fan- 
cied I saw the glimmer of a Hght yonder." 

The youth brings his glass to bear, peers 
through it anxiously for a moment, and answers 
decidedly, " NotJ^iug there but rice-boats. It 's 
very strange we have not met them. Can they 
have passed us in the dark ? " 

"No, sir; no," answers the other, "nothing 
has passed us going up stream ; but I did n't 
like the looks of that three-masted junk as went 
by us two hours ago wth all her sweeps out. 
She appeared to be in too much of a hurry, to 
suit me; and taking her actions into account 
with the failure of the company's boat to meet 
us, and the suspicious doings of this crew we 
have aboard, I have my doubts. It 's not 
natural for junk men to use the sweeps going 
down stream, in such a fine current as this. And 
I 'm certain those fellows forward are no more 
sleeping than I am ; for they 've been coming 
on deck by twos and threes, and I heard some 
of 'em whispering a while ago. For my part, 
I never liked the idea of taking passengers on 
these inland trips, sir, and never yet failed to 
give my opinion against it ; and, what 's more, 
this is the first time we ever started of a Frida\'. 
I 've always before managed to hurry or delay 
loading so as to avoid that day, but this time 
you would do it, in spite o' me." 

" But you know, Ben, we have never had anv 
trouble since we 've been together on the line." 

" That 's true, sir. I don't mean to be a 
croaker, but take an old man's advice now, and 
don't allow it again. I 've been in Chiny long 
enough to know these river people, and they 're 
not to be trusted as much as the open-water 
ones, Mr. Austin." 

" Now, Herrick, how often have I asked you 
not to call me ^^l■. Austin ? Time was when 
you always called me Frank, and we 've sailed 




to the 

so much together I wish you would kce 
old name." 

" Well, sir, I confess 1 <lo often feel like it. 
and it 's more homelike ; but since you 've had 
command of your own ship, even if she be no 
more than a Chinee junk, it seems more ship- 
shape and sounds better before the crew, to 
show you proper respect. I may do as you wish, 
between port.s ; but as captain of this here high- 

reached their ears from both side.s. The barking 
of dogs and the voices of men, women, and 
children could from time to time be distin- 
guished. Thicker and thicker grew the cluster 
of boats, until it became almost impossible to 
steer the large junk clear of them. 

" What does it all mean ? " Frank asked 

" Blessed if I know ! " responded Ben, shaking 

tailed craft, you shall have from me all the 
respect that 's due a superior officer. So, by 
your leave, I 'II just splice the proper handle 
to your name in future, whenever we 're on a 

A shadowy mass now loomed up on their right 
and another on their left, and with his night- 
glass Prank made out a fleet of river craft all 
at anchor. Twinkling lights became visible, 
spectral boats .sped by, and strange sounds 

his head dubiously. '• They were n't here two 
weeks ago, when we came up. Maybe it 's one 
of those floating villages on the move as I 've 
heard tell of; and, if 't is, there's no use of our 
trying to get through till daylight, that 's sure." 

" Forward there ! " called Frank to the crew. 
" What are all these boats doing here ? " 

•' They all right an' proper boats, sir," was 
the answer. " Fish .scarce up-side river : they 
move down." 



" How many of them are there ?" 

'■ No sabey, sir. One thousand, maybe ; ten 
thousand, maybe. How can tell ? " 

" I see no way out of this," said the young 
captain, scanning the mass of boats with the 
glass. " It seems that we are wedged in b\' a 
village of boats without number." 

" Better anchor, sir," suggested Herrick. 
" We '11 have daylight in an hour. You turn 
in, sir, and I '11 watch a spell." 

" No, Ben ; you 've been on duty since eight 
bells. Go below ; I '11 spell it out." 

The old sailor reluctantly went below, and 
Frank began his long and lonely w^atch on deck. 

As he paced leisurely to and fro on top of the 
high sloping cabin, the strangeness of his posi- 
tion came vividly before him. 

Two years before, he had passed up this river 
in charge of his first boatload of merchandise ; 
and many a successful trip had he since made, 
all with old Herrick as mate and adviser. His 
carefulness in the transfer of cargoes and his 
general good luck in his voyages had made him 
a favorite with the company. Fewer sacks of 
rice or boxes of opium had been stolen from his 
than from any other boat on the line, and there- 
fore he had been rapidly promoted and had con- 
stantly greater trusts placed in his charge. 

After the novelty had worn off, Herrick often 
fretted and fumed over the dull trips up and 
down river. 

" What 's the use," he often said, '■ of paddling 
up. and drifting down here again, when we might 
be on blue water, with a 
tidy craft, a jolly crew, 
and a civilized cargo ? 
— instead of in this 
highsterned, top-heavy 
bam of a junk. And 
such weather ! Sky al- 
ways blue, shore always 
soft, and not wind 
enough to blow out a 
candle. Faugh I I mind 
the yarn of a mate of 
mine who sailed four 
weeks in the blue 
Mediterranean, with 
just this weather all the 
time. AVhy, sir, the 

ship struck a gale off the Bay of Biscay, 
goin' home, that carried her masts out and left 
her bottom-up with him astraddle of her keel, 
a-grirmin' to his drowning mates around, and 
shoutin' to them, ' Aha ! my boys, this is what I 
calls weaf/ierf None of your soft skies and blue 
zephyrs for me ! ' " 

But despite the growhng, Frank thought 
highly of the old man ; for he knew Herrick to 
be a stanch comrade and a faithful friend. 

The Chinese crew were now the young com- 
mander's chief anxiety. Although they did their 
work well, he often noticed that the)- were whis- 
pering together when they thought themselves 
unseen by him or Herrick. Besides, the few 
Chinese passengers aboard seemed entirely too 
familiar with the crew. These circumstances, 
when added to the strange failure of the com- 
pany's boat to meet them with provisions, as 
had been agreed, and to the strange haste of 
the outward-bound junks which had passed his 
vessel, and his present situation, hemmed in by 
the floating villagers, gave him reasonable cause 
for suspecting treachery. 

At length, faint streaks of dawn lightened the 
surrounding fog ; and, as the mist slowly cleared 
before the rising sun, Frank beheld a confused 
fleet of river-craft, of all shapes and .sizes, lying 
huddled together on every side as far as his 
eye could reach. The slanting rays of the sun 
struck athwart the boats, and masts, sails, oars, 
and cordage caught the golden glow. The ris- 
ing smoke of countless cabin-fires gave a weird 


Chaptkr II. 


effect to the scene. ( "lOngs sounded ; chickens 
cackled ; dogs barked ; children jieeped from lit- 
tle latticed windows ; and their parents bustled 
about their morning work. It seemed as if the 
whole population of some town had deserted 
the land for the water. 

" Well, I '11 be keel-hauled ! " exclaimed Her- 
rick as he poked his head out of the window, 
'■ if this ain't the strangest sight / ever see. Why, 
sir, it 's worse nor a hive of bees ! Just listen to 
their buzzing ! This is no place for a Christian." 

"Call the men to breakfast, Ben, and then we '11 
put out the sweeps and see if we can't find some 
opening in the pack, there to the westward." 

After issuing the necessary orders, the two 
officers went below to their own breakfast. 

Hardly were they seated, when they heard 
stealthy footfalls overhead. 

" Those fellows have no business aft, Mr. 
Austin. I '11 just jump on deck and see what 's 
up," said Herrick, after listening a moment. 

He returned at once, with a muttered grum- 
ble against all Chinamen in general, and against 
their crew in particular. 

" What 's the matter ? " asked Frank. 

" We 're in for it now, sir," Herrick answered 
doggedly. " They 're clean gone, every heathen 
one of them, passengers and all ! They cut stick 
and ran for it as soon as we came below 1 " 

" What," cried Frank in amazement, " are we 
two alone ? " 

" Oh, Proddy the cook. Kanaka Joe, and the 
two Malays are still on board," replied Ben. 
" They '11 never forget the day you saved them 
from drowning, in the straits of Malacca, when 
they fell overboard in that storm." 

'• Then there arc six of us left. Let 's go 
after the crew and bring the cowards back ! " 
exclaimed Frank, seizing his pistols and start- 
ing for the door. 

" Don't you do it, Mr. Frank," pleaded Ben, 
putting himself before the door. " They 've 
]5layed us a nasty trick and it 's pretty bad for us 
as it is. Don't make matters worse by flying in 
a passion. They 're puzzling enough already ! " 

" But what are we to do, Ben ? Here we are 
with only six men to work the boat out of this 
place ! " 

" It 's rough, I allow, sir. But we may squeeze 
through somehow," saitl the old man cheerfully. 


'• Who 's there ? " called Frank ; for there 
was a knock at the door. " It me, sah," wa.s 
the rejjly in a negro's voice. 

" Come in, Proddy I " said Frank. 

The door opened and admitted a coal-black 
African boy, six feet in height and straight as 
an arrow. He was dressed in loose folded 
cloth fastened by a belt at the, but his 
magnificent chest and shoulders were bare. 
His tightly curled wool, dressed carefully and 

gathered into a point on the toj) of his head, 
gave him a wild and almost savage appear- 
ance ; but the bright eyes and honest face be- 
neath would at once reassure the beholder 
who might have been disposed to think him 
half-ci\ilized. Beside the negro cook stood a 
smaller man whose lithe, sinewy form and 
swarthy face showed him to be one of the 
'• Kanaka men" — all n{ whom make excellent 



sailors. Behind these stood two small Malays, 
in the picturesque costume of their race. 

Si.\ months before, Frank had rescued these 
men from a sinking junk, and they had since re- 
mained efficient and faithful members of his crew. 

" What is it, Proddy ? " asked Frank. 

" De crew all done gone run off, sah, 'cept us ; 
but a big coohe man just come aboard, to fine 
out ef you want any help." 

Frank's anxious brow cleared at these words, 
and he glanced inquiringly at Ben. But the 

The coolie's small eyes twinkled, for he knew 
this offer was more than the ordinary price. 
Nevertheless, he still appeared reluctant to take 
it. Presently he replied, " All light. § Can do," 
and he went on deck, and, climbing nimbly 
over the junk's side, disappeared into the mass 
of boats around. 

'' What is it, Joe ? " asked Frank, for the 
Kanaka raised his right hand as a sign that he 
wished to speak. 

'• He no coolie, sir ! " replied Joe, pointing 

mate only shook his head uneasily, muttering, after the comprador. " He Mandalay man ; no 

" Worse and worse ! But perhaps you might as good. My watch him sharp, bimeby." 

well see him, eh, Mr. Frank ? " " Aye, aye !" exclaimed Ben, " I think Joe is 

Frank nodded, and the old sailor went on, right. Somehow neither did I think him a 

" Show him down, Proddy." proper looking coolie. If the rest of his crew 

" Now, Mr. Frank, it won't do to let this chap are like him, then they 're a precious gang of 

see that we are bothered ; so let 's go on with cutthroats, I '11 be bound ! " 
our breakfast," suggested the mate when the " I must have some crew to work the vessel, 

others had gone. They may be trustworthy. And can't we take 

So they went on with the meal. 
In a few moments appeared at the cabin door 
the figure of a thin, sinewy coolie. He wore a 

precautions against their treachery ? " asked 
Frank uneasily. 

" I hardly know, sir," answered the mate, rub- 

striped cloth about his waist, his pigtail was bing his head ; " but I 've an idea that one of 

coiled on top of his head, and he carried a 
broad bamboo hat in his hand. 

" What do you want ? " asked Frank 

" Chin-chin. My coohe comprador ! * Your 
clew lun away. I many good men hab, can 
show proper paper t from Hong Kong side. 
You make look see ? " and he extended his 
testimonials to Frank. 

" What do you think, Ben ? " asked Frank in 
a low tone. 

" Well, sir, we can't get out of here without 
some help ; so you might as well engage him," 
replied Herrick after a moment's hesitation. 

" How many boys have you, John | ? " Frank 

them guns for'ard there might be of some use 
to us here in the cabin. But whatever we are 
going to do must be done before they see we 
distrust them." 

" Now, boys," said Frank, rising quickly, 
" bear a hand, and cast loose that second car- 
ronade, and then haul it into the inner cabin. 
Ben, you see to the gun ; I '11 go watch for that 
coolie and his gang," and Frank went on deck 
and climbed into the rigging, while Herrick and 
the rest dragged the cannon in and secured it. 
Herrick pointed its muzzle directly toward the 
cabin door, aiming it about breast-high. 

" Now, lads, go below and bring u]) all 
the cartridges, rammers, gun-swabs, and cut- 

asked the coolie, " and what do you want for lasses you can find ; and don't forget to clear 

them ? " 

" My hab twenty, forty, fift\', good man. How 
many you likee ? " 

" What 's your price for twenty of them to 
work us to Hong Kong ? " 

" Can do for thirty loUar, || " said the coolie. 

" That 's too much. I '11 give twenty," said 
Frank sharply. 

out the magazine." 

The moment they were gone, Ben opened a 
heavy chest under one of the bunks, took out 
a powder-cartridge, and loaded the gun. Then, 
ripping open a canvas bag, he poured about 
ten pounds of musket-balls in after the powder. 
Stuffing a piece of cloth into the muzzle, he 
rammed all home with the butt-end of an oar ; 

' To talk. 1 am a coolie overseer. 

t Recommendation. { .\ name used by Europeans for any Cliinaman. 
II Dollar. *•' .Ml right." 

CHAN ok: a Ro.MAXl K (>1- I lit; EASTERN SEAS. 

after which he served tlic ])riming with a pahii- 

Scarcely had he tinished his work, when the 
men came back laden with the contents of the 
magazine. The ammunition was soon put out 
of sight in the chest again. When all was fin- 
ished, Herrick turned to the men and said : 

" Now, my lads, you may think this all very 
queer and not altogether shipshape, perhaps; 
but if those thieving coolies mean treachery, 
this junk may sail longer, if not faster, with this 
gun-ballast aft. But there 's grape-shot in the 
gun, and powder in the chest, yonder ; and a 
match to both will leave little of this craft but 
splinters if the fight goes against us. Now, I 
believe you are all true men ; but I would 
like to hear you say which }'ou will fight with, 
Mr. Austin or the coolies ? " 


" We '11 stand by the captain, of course," they 
replied promptly and with evident good-will. 

" Ver)' well then, lads, come for'ard with me 
and spike every gun ; and we must be sure 
the priming-covers are replaced so the spiking 
won't be seen." 

Hardly was this work done, when a hail from 
Frank gave notice of the coming of tlie new 

Running to the side the men saw. jumping 
from boat to boat, a motley gang of coolies 
intermixed with local sailors. Mounting the 

junk's side, the ne\v-comei-s formed a line for- 
ward, taking their places as their leader called 
their names in succession. 

When the last man was in line, the chief 
coolie, turning to Frank, .salaamed and said re- 
spectfully : " Twenty proper men hab got, sir. 
\'ou wantchee get under way ? " 

■• V'es," replied Frank, " as soon as you can." 

A fi^w orders from the comprador sent the 

crew to their posts, and, amid great splashing an<l 

shoving, the junk was backed out of the press 

of boats. Skirting the edges of the throng they 



turned toward an opening not before apparent. 
Entering this, they were soon gUding down 
stream again, through the more scattered por- 
tions of the floating village. 

"They do their work well," remarked Frank, 
noting the regular beat of the sweeps as they 
rose and fell in the hands of the new crew, and 
vigorously urged the junk onward. 

" Too well to please me ! " growled Ben. 
" No picked up gang ever handled sweeps like- 
that! Mind how they work together." 

Frank could not but see the significance of 
this shrewd remark. For, despite their ragged 
and slovenly appearance, the men did every- 
thing with a precision and certainty which only 
long training together can give to a crew. 

" Here comes a breeze, sir; just try them at 
the sails," was the mate's next suggestion. Frank 
gave the necessary orders. He kept a sharp 
lookout upon the sailors, and anxiously awaited 
the result. Gladly would he have seen them 
bungle over the work, but the result confirmed 
Ben's worst suspicions. Instead of rushing from 
the sweeps all together and scrambling for the 

to the coolie, with pretended approval. " You ve 
a smart set of fellows there 1" But as he passed 
Frank he muttered : " It 's all up with us, sir. 
They 're old hands, just as I suspected. We '11 
have to fight afore long." 

" But they won't dare do anything while we 're 
here in the crowded river," responded Frank in 
a low tone. 

" No, sir; not unless we let them see we sus- 
pect them. We must keep a sharp lookout for 
some ship on the way down, and get help if pos- 
sible. 1 f that chance fails us, we 're gone, sure ! " 

Chapter III. 


The crew being now at liberty were lounging 
about the deck or lay sleeping in groups under 
the shadow of sail, deck-house, or mast ; and a 
few gathered near the galley to eat the rations 
of rice and fish for tiffin.* Everything, so far 
as outward appearances went, denoted a calm 
and peaceful voyage with a good crew and a 
contented captain. 

rigging in a body, as a new crew would ha\e 
done, one half remained at the oars, while a few 
cleared away the heavy yards and mat sails, and 
others stood by the halyards to .sheet home and 
belay. Then, at a word from their leader, the 
sails were run up on both masts at once. 
" Well done, old slim-shanks I " shouted Ben 

But, notwithstanding the apparent calm, old 
Ben's experienced eye read everything aright, 
and discovered pre-arranged treachery in spite 
of the cunning acting of the men. Well he 
knew that each one had concealed on his per- 
son some deadly weapon which he would not 
hesitate to use whenever occasion oftered. 

" Midd.iy meal. 



The day wore on. The setting sun went down 
in a blaze of glory. The damp mist brooded on 
the river, and the yellow moon again rode high 
in the heavens, as the boat went gliding toward 
the ocean. No sign of a friendly vessel greeted 
the anxious eyes of the captain and mate, as 
they watched from the high after-deck ; but num- 
bers of the native river-craft passed them by, or 
were seen lying at anchor. 

After the watches for the night had been set, 
a long conference was held in the cabin between 
the officers and the faithful members of the for- 
mer crew. 

" I don't fear much for to-night, sir," said Ben ; 
" but two of us had better stand watch at a time; 
and as Mr. Austin and I are near dead for want 
of sleep, I think, Proddy, that you and one of 
the Malay boys had better take first watch. If 
anything unusual happens, just knock three times 
on the deck with the butt of your pistol." 

An hour later silence reigned over the junk. 
The new crew lay stretched about the deck, 
seemingly buried in slumber, and the watch 
passed to and fro ; while Frank, Ben, and Joe, 
exhausted by heat and fatigue, slept heavily in 
the cabin. 

It was midnight when Proddy, turning drow- 
sily at the end of his usual beat, missed his fel- 
low watcher, the Malay ; then suddenly a sound 
as of scuffling, a muttered curse in Chinese, and 
the ring of a steel blade striking on the deck 
starded him. 

" Hello dere, for'ard ! who 's making dat 
racket ? " demanded Proddy. There was no 
answer. He stepped out from the shadow of 
the mast and saw a sight that would have ter- 
rified the bravest. 

Not ten feet distant was the Malay, writhing 
in the grasp of a dozen men who had muffled 
his cries and were attempting to make away 
with him. For Proddy, to draw his revolver 
and open fire on the assassins was the work of 
an instant; but the pistol's flash revealed the 
crouching bodies of half a dozen more of the 
crew gliding stealthily along in the shadows on 
both sides, to cut oft' his own retreat. 

Desperately firing his last shot at the foremost, 
Proddy bounded back through the cabin-door, 
shutting and barring it just in time to escape a 
shower of blows aimed at him by his pursuers. 

'• A narrow escape that, Proddy ! " e-xclaimed 
Frank, as, aroused by the noises at the door, he 
sprang from the berth and went to the negro's 

•' Where 's Malay Charlie?" 

Prodd}' hastily told what he had seen of the 
crew's treachery, the attack upon the watch, and 
Malay Charlie's fate. " Nothing to be done 
now but fight it out, and worse luck! " muttered 
Ben, who had joined Frank almost at once. 

'' Keep out of the range of that door, Mr. 
Frank ; they may fire through it ! " 

For a few minutes blows continued to shake 
the door ; but then the pounding ceased, and 
retreating footsteps were heard going toward 
the bow. 

After an interval, a noise as of the trundling 
of some heavy body reached them, and stopped 
when the body had been pushed to the cabin- 
door. This sound was followed by the whisper- 
ing of several voices outside. 

Crouching on the cabin-floor, Joe put his ear 
to the door and listened for a moment. He drew 
back trembling as he explained to his compan- 
ions that one of the guns must have been un- 
spiked, and now had been placed ready to blow 
open the door. The gun was being loaded, 
as they knew from the sound of a rammer driv- 
ing the charge home. 

" Now 's our time ! " whispered Frank excit- 
edly, moving quickly to the breech of the can- 
non in the cabin ; " let 's fire through the door! " 

" No ! " said Ben in a hurried whisper, seizing 
the young man's arm. " Cram yourselves into 
the corners, each side the door, and .stand ready ! 
Don't stir till after I fire!" 

So saying he threw himself do«n behind the 
gun, lanyard in hand. Scarcely was he well 
sheltered behind the gun, than, with a blinding 
flash and thunderous roar, the door was splin- 
tered into a thousand fragments. The gun was 
loaded with powder only. Instantly the room 
filled with smoke. 

Ben jumped to his feet and the carronade's 
answering report at once rang out through the 
shattered doorway, lighting u[) by its flash the 
mob of coolies as they ])ressed inward to enter 
the passage. The discharge tore a terrible lane 
through them, dashing a dozen to the deck. 

For an instant the survivors of the carnage 

CHAN ok; a romance of the eastern seas. 


stood dismayed at the unexpected and terrible 
counter-attack. Then, recovering themselves, 
they pressed forward and with savage yells 
swarmed into the cabin. 

Bravely were they met by those within. 
Shouts, cries, and pistol-shots mingled with the 
clashing of ringing steel blades, and a despe- 
rate fight ensued in the narrow room. But 
superior numbers gradually forced back Frank's 

(To be cot 

little band, and hope- 
lessly hemmed them in. 
At first nothing could be 
seen in the darkness, and 
only by sound could either 
party distinguish friend or 
loe; but presently one of 
the assailants lit a torch, 
the more easily to finish the 
dastardly work, and as he 
held it flaring aloft the 
hopelessness of the struggle 
was revealed to all. Ka- 
naka Joe lay in one comer, 
apparently dead, with two 
Loolies bending over him. 
Proddy, badly wounded, 
^- stood with his back to the 

wall, defending himself with one hand, while 
with the other he supported Frank, who had 
been disabled. One glance was sufficient to 
reveal all this to Herrick, and shouting "The 
cruise is up, Frank, my boy ! " he charged 
through his assailants, bounded to the powder- 
chest and tearing open the top, ran the muzzle 
of his revolver deep into the powder intending 
to blow up the vessel. 

By Laura E. Richards. 

(To be sung to the tune of "The Monkey Married the 
Baboon's Sister."') 

This is Clarinthia Jane Louisa, 
Holding her brother Ebenezer. 
Here he sits on the post to please her. 
Happy little two ! 

Dog came by with a growl and a grumble 
Made Clarinthia start and stumble ; 
Poor Ebenezer got a tumble. 
Boo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo ! 

% v>,m]mf 

By Alice Maude Ewell. 

• Daffydotvndilly has lome up to To7vnc 
In a white Pcttiioatc and a greene Go-wnc." 

Daftydowndilly, ye Spring it is faire ; 
( iold 's on ye Tree toppes tall, gold 's in ye aire ; 
Over ye blue, blue Skye little clouds creep. 
Idle as straying Lambs lost of Bo-Peepe ; 
Here 's litde West-wind blythe, soft-stepping 

downe ; 
And Daffydowndiily has come up to Towne. 


Daffydowndiily. here's faire Companie, 
Drest all soe lady-fine, welcoming Thee. 
Here be Miss Violet, daintie and shye. 
Dame Perrywinkle — frock blue as ye Skye ; 

Here the young Jonquille, abashed, looking 

Since Daffydowndiily has come \\\> to Towne. 


Here be ye Grasses all, thriftiest Folk, 
Heeding not wind nor rain, smiling through 

E'en 'twixt ye cobblestones bravely they 're 

E'en on ye Roof soe higli they 're a-house- 

keeping ; 
All o'er our I'kit they 've been greening ye 

'(iainst Daff"ydowndilly should come up to 



He 's counting his money ; he '11 init on his 

Now Daffydowndilly has come up to Towne. 

Daffydowndilly, brave Sights you shall see : 
Wise Men of Gotham — most wonderfull 

Three ; 
See Humpty-Dumpty ; ye King and ye Queene. 
She 's making tartest tartes ever were seen ; 


Sing, litde Byrdies all ! Sing, sing aloud, 
Cock-Robin Red o' breast, valiant and proud ! 
Sweet Phebe Peewee, come, swell out your 

throat ! 
Chirj), Dicky Sparrow, with livelyest note! 
Chaunt all ye Frogs in ye Rushes soe browne ! 
For Daffydowndilly has come up to Towne. 

' Daffydoivndilly has come up to Towne, 
III a white Pettkoate and a greene Gowne." 




By \V. [. Henderson. 

One morning Eben Bonabben, the sage, said 
to his pupil Hafiz : 

" My son, what would you be ? " 

" I would be rich and great," said Hafiz. 

The sage shook his head and answered in a 
grave tone : 

" It is very difficult to be either of these, and 
it is almost impossible to be both." 

But Hafiz persisted in his desire and ileclaretl 
that at any rate the emperor was rii:h and 

Then Eben Bonabben said : 

" Let us go forth into the city that we may 
learn how these things are." 

So saying, he took up his staff and led tlie 

way into the busy streets, Hafiz walking in 
expectancy by his side. Presently they came 
to a bookseller's, and Hafiz, looking at the 
shelves, exclaimed : 

" Behold ! Here is a new book written by 
Imam, the most delectable writer of our people. 
Surely, he is great, and I am persuaded that 
he must be very rich, for all the world praises 

" Come, then," said Eben Bonabben, " let us 
go to the house of Imam, and he himself shall 
show us his riches, for he is my familiar friend." 

.\nd the sage turned aside from the principal 
avenue of the city and led the way down a 
humble side street, where the pavements were 



not of stone, and the children wore no sandals. 
And when they had gone a long distance, they 
paused before a small house, at the window of 
which sat an old man, bent double, writing 

" That," said Eben Bonabben to Hafiz, '• is 
Imam. I shall address him. Ho, Imam! " he 
continued, lifting up his voice, " what do you 
there ? " 

And Imam, without raising his head, replied : 

" I write, and write, and write." 

" What write you ? " 

" Words, words, words. I arise early and 
retire late. And all the day, save when I go to 
the publishers, I write ; and my soul is weary% 
but there is no rest." 

" But are you not rich ? " 

" Yes, I have a wife and four children whom 
I love better than diamonds; and that I may 
not lose these riches I write, and write, and 
write, or they will perish of hunger." 

" But to write is easy." 

" Ten long years, Eben Bonabben, did I 
write before men would read. And in that 
time I read many hundreds of books in order 
that I might learn. And my brain was filled, 
but my stomach yearned for food." 

" But surely you are a great man." 

" Men tell me so ; but I would rather be rich. 
Tell your pupil that if he would be rich, he must 
not write. Farewell." 

And Hafiz perceived that Imam spoke the 
truth. Then Eben Bonabben led the way to 
the house of Abdul Kar, the wealthy merchant. 
It was yet early in the day, and Abdul Kar was 
just setting out for his warehouse. 

" I pray you stay but a moment," said Eben 
Bonabben, " and tell my pupil whether you are 
rich and great." 

" I have many thousands of money in my 
strong boxes," said Abdul ; " but the Sacred 
College of Immortals laughs at me and says 
that I am an ignorant man who has nothing but 

" Yet it is easy to get money." 

'■ Is it, indeed ? Truly, Eben Bonabben, you 
speak of what you know not. From early mom 
till late at night for twoscore years I have 
labored Hke a pack-mule of the mountains, and 
at last I am rich. And still must I labor early 

and late in order that I may keep my riches. 
And I may not enjoy them, but shall die and 
leave them to my heirs, who will quarrel over 
them. Farewell I I must hasten to my shop, 
or I shall be robbed by my salesmen." 

And Hafiz perceived that Abdul Kar labored 
as hard to be rich as Imam did to be great, and 
that neither was satisfied. Then he said to Eben 
Bonabben : 

" I have heard that Ahmed is a wonderful 
painter. Surely he is rich and great and his 
work is easy." 

" Let us go to his house," said Eben Bonab- 
ben, leading the way once more. 

Ahmed received them courteously in his 
studio, where he was at work. Hafiz admired 
the beautiful picture on the easel, and said : 

" And will you paint another to-morrow ? " 

" No," replied Ahmed, " nor in a hundred 

Hafiz did not understand, and Ahmed, per- 
ceiving his difficulty, continued : 

" It is first necessary to make the picture 
here," and with that he laid his hand upon his 
heart ; " and next, it must be made here," and 
he laid his hand upon his brain ; " and next it 
must be made here," and he pointed with his 
left hand to his right hand. 

" I will discover your meaning to my pupil," 
said Eben Bonabben. " First, you must have 
boundless love out of which the beautiful is con- 
ceived; second, you must have deep thought, 
by which the beautiful is defined; and third, 
you must have the trained hand, by which the 
beautiful is revealed. Do I speak rightly ?" 

" Like the sage that you are, Eben Bonab- 
ben," answered Ahmed. " But, for the training 
of the hand, the heart and the brain must be 
patient through years of irksome toil." 

" But you are great," said Eben Bonabben. 

" Men say so," answered Ahmed, bowing his 

" And you are rich," said Eben Bonabben. 

" In my art, yes. But horses and camels and 
oxen have I none, and of silver and gold I 
have sufficient for my wants, which are not 

Then Eben Bonabben and Hafiz departed 
in silence. But presently Hafiz, regaining his 
courage, said : 


" There is yet one more man. There is llabib. 
who plays upon the strange instrument with 
many keys, and makes music which causes even 
the sultan to weep with joy. Surely, he is both 
rich and great." 

So Eben Bonabben led the way to the house 
of Habib, which was in a much worse street 
than that of Imam. And again Eben Bonab- 
ben propounded the nature of their inquiry, 
whereat Habib tore his hair. 

"Rich and great? I, alas! that am forced 
to teach the foolish and the frivolous and the 
stupid ten hours a day until their execrable per- 
formances have twisted my senses into a snarl 
that borders on lunacy, and then must sit down 
and practise four hours that I may not lose that 
skill which cost me six hours' labor a day for 
ten years to acquire ! I rich and great ! " he 
exclaimed, \vith a bitter laugh. 

" But," cried Hafiz, alarmed by this out- 
burst, " vour four hours of labor are devoted to 


tlic performance of such music as never man 
heard before." 

" Oh, ignorance ! " cried Habib. " Listen ; 
this is what I must practise." 

And seating himself before his instrument, 
he played scales and exercises in dreary repe- 
tition till Hafiz, finding himself grow faint, threw 
up his hands in despair and rushed into the 
street, followed by the sage. 

" Oh, Eben Bonabben I " he cried, " this is 
the worst of all. Now do I truly perceive that 
it is only by grievous labor that one can become 
great or rich, and that greatness does not bring 
riches, nor riches greatness. Tell me, I beseech 
vou, how shall I live ? " 

•• Thus," replied Eben Bonabben. •• Do that 
work which is allotted to you in this world with 
all your heart and all your strength, and think 
naught of riches nor of greatness. For one 
must find happiness in one's work, and not in 
what it brings." 


I had a little row boat. 

It was called the "ZAary Jane" 
And I always kept it fastened ^ ,;'—-> 

To^ the boat hou'se'byra.G^oj;-^ 

But it somehow got afloat one day 
And drifted out to sear- 

And now 1 often wonder where_ • 
The Mary Jane" can be,^^ ; 


By J. r. Trowbridge. 

in tlte No^'eitiber )tumber,\ 

Chapter XXV. 


Toby Trafford had an exciting story to tell 
when he went home to supper ; so many, and 
such unexpected, things had happened that 

His mother was surprised, and timidly doubt- 
ful as to the result of his undertaking ; and of 
course Mildred had to indulge in some sisterly 
sarcasms at his expense. But they both were 
well pleased at the spirit he .showed. 

" You see," he said, " the risk is very Httle, 
only a coat of paint for the doctor's boat, which 
I can put on myself, and a good scrubbing for 
the other. Then, if 1 buy the boat of the man 
at the Springs, I am sure I can sell it again, if I 
wish to, for about the price he asks. I am only 
^orry I did n't begin a little earlier in the season, 
so as to have the thing now in full blast. There 
are a good many summer boarders in town 
already, and it will be full next week. And I 
believe I can scoop in some of the travel to 
the Springs." 

" Be careful you don't get ' scooped in ' yourself 
by the omnibus company," replied Mildred, " if 
you attempt to get away any of its patronage." 

"The omnibus company is the railroad com^ 
pany," said Toby ; " and it will be a short-sighted 
policy that can't see that my boats will help it 
more than they will hurt it. in the long run." 

" Mr. Tazwell is one of the directors of the 
company," Mrs. Trafford remarked ; " and start- 
ing the line of coaches was his pet scheme." 

" P-h-e-w ! " Toby whistled. " I had forgot- 
ten that. I '11 have my pet scheme, too, and 
.set up an opposition. Why not ? I have just 
as much right to run boats across the lake as 
anybody has to run stages around it. Is that 
Mrs. Patterson in the kitchen ? I want to see 

her. Mrs. Patterson ! " he called, through the 
half-open door. The mother of Yellow Jacket 
appeared. " Have you any objection, Mrs. 
Patterson, to my nailing to the corner of your 
fence, opposite the depot, an upright strip of 
wood, with a signboard on it, about so long 
and so wide ? " Toby inquired, making meas- 
urements in the air with his hands, over the 

" Not the leastest mite of objection in the 
world," rephed the easy-natured mother of the 

" So that is settled," said Toby, after she had 
withdrawn. " Now, the next thing is the sign. 
Mill)-, you 're very clever at making printing 
letters. If I can get you to make some, with 
a pencil, on a board, then I can paint them as 
well as I did the name on the boat, and better, 
too, after that practice." 

" Oh, I can't make letters large enough for 
that ! I never did in my life," Milly protested. 

" You can if you try. And you must. For 
this is a job I don't want to hire anybody to 
do." Toby rose from the table, in haste to exe- 
cute his project. " I 've got a board ; shall I 
bring it to the house, or will you come to the 
barn, where I shall do the painting ? " 

" Oh dear, Toby, I can't ! If you are going 
into the sign-painting business, you must find 
another partner," she replied, petulantly. 

He argued and entreated, and finally went to 
the bam to find the board he intended to use. 
This he took to a small work-bench, dressed it 
with a plane, divided it with a saw, and 
smoothed the edges ; then chose one of the 
pieces, and, while waiting for Mildred, pro- 
ceeded to try his own hand at outlining the 

Then came a light footstep lieiiind him, and 
a musical laugh pealed forth. 

" Oh, Toby I " said Milly ; " who ever sus- 
pected you of being such an artist ? " 

Vol. XVIII. 


" I thought T was doing pretty well," replied 
Toby, poising his pencil to criticize his work. 

" ' Well ' is no name for it ; I never saw such 
original letters ! That T looks as if it was just 
going to swing its hat and hurrah for the 
Fourth of July." 

" I was afraid I had got the T a little tipsy," 
Toby admitted. 

" And the B ; it 's a stroke of genius ! Every- 
body else makes the lower loop of a B larger 
than the ujjper ; but yours are as exactly alike 
as a pair of ox-bows." 

" I took pains to make them just the same 
size ; but 1 thought they did n't look quite 

" There may be a prejudice in favor of the 
other style ; but do let me stand here a min- 
ute and admire yours ! And the O ! " Milly 
exclaimed. " It is actually round ! " 

"How should it he. I M like to know? I 
thought I would surely get that right ; so I laid 
it out with a pair of compasses." 

" I thought so ! What a bright idea! An O 
is generally oval ; but of course you would n't 
do anything so commonplace as that. And 
why don't you finish 
your S ? As it is, it 
looks like a water- 
melon rind, very badly 

Toby began to laugh 
with her. 

" I thought, myself, 
it looked like a cat's tail 
curling both ways in a 
fit. What 's the matter 
with the A ? " 

" You must have laid 
that out with a square." 
said Milly. " The two 
rafters meet almost at 
right angles, and put 
one in a dreadfully anx- 
ious state of mind, for 
^^^^ fear they may spread 

^fki mt^^^m ^^''^ more, and let the 

roof fall in. You must 
make the cross-piece of 
your A very firm and 
strong, to prevent such 
an accident." 

" But, joking aside," 
said the artist of these 
extraordinary works, 
" what do you think 
sKhD TOBv. ^^ j.j^g entire word — 

BOATS ? Should n't you say it was about the 
right size, and that there was enough room left 
for us to put under it for the Three Springs 
in small letters. And here 's another idea. Why 
not have a hand ])ointing ? Of course my work 
must be changed in places." 

'■ Don't change anything ! '' said Milly. 
" People will think you jumbled the letters on 
purpose, to convey an idea of boats tossed on 
the waves." 

" But 1 don't want to convey that idea ; I 
want to give an impression of smooth water, 
and a pleasant voyage. So, you see, Milly, 



you '11 have to help me out. In fact, I was 
only starting the thing, to show you how ridic- 
ulous it will be unless you draw the letters 
for me." 

" What color are you going to have your 
background ? " she inquired. 

" I 'm not going to paint that at all ; the 
plain board will look well enough, for one 
season. It 's a very simple thing, you see, 
Milly, if you '11 only take hold with me. Just 
try once, on the other piece of board." 

" I shall have to carry it into the house, 
and work at it this evening," said Milly. " I 
did n't think I could do it well enough to suit 
you; but since I have seen — Oh, Toby!" 

" All right ! you may laugh," cried Toby 
gaily, hastening to pass a smoothing-plane 
over his own ludicrous lettering. " There ! 
now you may as well take both boards ; for I 
am going to have another sign at the wharf — 
BOATS TO LET. And oh, Milly ! " 

" What now ? " said Milly. 

'• Don't forget about the hand. There 's to 
be a fist, you know, with one finger pointing 
down the street. So ! " Toby illustrated. 

" But I never can draw a hand." 

" Yes, you can ; you '11 think so, yourself, 
if you leave me to try first, as I did with the 
letters. I was going to clap my fist on the 
board, and mark around it. See ? " 

" What a head ! " exclaimed Milly with ironic 

" Why not ? " said Toby. '• I '11 be with 
you in a little while ; and we '11 have lots of 
fun over it." 

With a little laugh over her shoulder, Mil- 
dred carried the boards to the house. 

Ch.^pter XXVI. 


" Now," said Toby, " I 've just got time to 
go and give the doctor's boat a good washing, 
before dark." 

Providing himself with a pail and an old 
broom, a wash-cloth and a sponge, he went 
down to the wharf; where he was dashing 
water and scrubbing industriously, glad at 
heart, enjoying the lovely twilight and the 
beautv of the lake, without consciouslv notic- 

ing them, when Mr. Brunswick, the ice-man, 
passed down the street, on his way home from 
the village. 

" Wal, Toby ! " he said, stopping at the 
wharf, and giving the boy one of his broad- 
est smiles, " what ye go'n' to do with so many 
boats ? " 

" I am going to keep 'em to let," said Toby, 
" as long as I 've no other business." 

" That ain't a bad idee ! You 've left the 
store. Bob says. That wa' n't a bad idee, nuther. 
'T wa' n't no place for you, Toby. I thought 
you 'd find it out." 

"Yes, I found it out." Toby, in his rubber 
boots, and with his arms bare, stood beside the 
boat he was cleansing, and frankly addressed 
the ice-man. " I was going over to see you, Mr. 
Brunswick, soon as this work was done." 

" Ye want to borry more scows ? " grinned the 

" Not yet. I wanted to speak to you about 
the one I did borrow. The pay for it." 

" The pay for it ? " Mr. Brunswick appeared 
as if he did n't quite understand. 

" If you are in a hurry for the money," said 
Toby, " I can get it for you pretty soon, I think ; 
a friend has offered to lend it to me. But it will 
suit me better if you can wait till I earn it." 

" That 's the right sort of talk, Toby ! " The 
elder Bob smiled benevolently. " I like to see a 
young chap, or any chap, toe the mark when 
he 's got an obligation to meet. But if you 
thought for a minute I ever meant to make you 
pay for that loss, — a boy like you ! — you 're as 
much mistaken as if you 'd kicked your grand- 

" I don't just know how much mistaken that 
would be," replied Toby. " But I told you from 
the first I would pay for the scow, if nobody else 
did. And I 'm going to do it." 

'• And / thought," said the ice-man, '• if Taz- 
well did n't pay, that would place me in a mean 
sort of pickle. For I could n't let you do it. To 
be sure, you borryed it ; but 't wa' n't no fault of 
yourn that it got set fire to. You did just as 
I 'd 'ave done." 

•• It 's very generous in you to say that ! " 
Toby e.vclaimed gratefully. 

" Mabby 't wa' n't the most prudent thing," Mr. 
Brunswick went on. " Hut if that whel|i of a Tom 




had set out to strike a match on a boat-load 
of hay when / 'd be'n there, I 'd 'ave flung fust 
his matches overboard, and then him too, like 
another Jonah." 

He took an envelope from his pocket, and 
drew out a piece of paper, which he unfolded. 

" Now, I 'm happy to say the thing is settletl." 

" Settled ! How so ? " cried Toby. 

" I guess Tazwell is beginnin' to take about 
the same view of the matter I do. Jest read 

He passed the billet to Toby, who read in 
the greatest astonishment : 

Dear Sir: I take pleasure in handing you my clieck 
for twenty dollars, which I hear is the amount of dam- 
ages you claim for the loss of your boat, burned in the 
transportation of my hay. Respectfully, 

Thomas Tazweli,. 

Toby looked up, speechless and incredulous. 

" And the check ? " he said. 

" Oh, I 've got that safe," chuckled the ice-man, 
tapping his pocket. " I wonder what brought 
him to terms ? For I heard of his sayin' on the 
street that I might whistle for my money. Mad 
at somethin' I had .said, 1 suppose." 

" After his talk with me, I did n't believe he 
would do it ! " Toby exclaimed. '' I shall think 
better of him now." 

" I don't know but I will, and I don't know 
trs I will," said the ice-man, with a smile skir- 
mishing around the corners of his mouth. " You 
can't be sure what his motive was. But I guess 
th' ain't nothin' the matter with the check ! " 

" There 's a great deal of real good-nature in 
people, spite of all the meanness we see and 
hear of," Toby mused when once more left 

He was not thinking of the act of justice his 
own conduct had probably shamed Mr. Tazwell 
into performing in this unexpected way. But 
Mr. Brunswick's sympathizing words were still 
warm in his breast ; and he remembered Dr. 
Patty's kindness, and all that Mr. AUerton was 
doing for him, out of pure good-will. And his 
heart overflowed with gratitude that there were 
such good inen in the world. 

The twilight dee])ened, and the young moon 
glimmered, reflected in the dancing ripples of 
the lake, when Toby turned his back u])on his 

finished task and walked u|) the road, carrying 
his pail and broom. 

He was impatient to .see how Milly was get- 
ting on with the lettering of the sign ; and was 
delighted to find how well she was doing the 

" I declare, Milly 1 " he said, " it 's just as well 
done as any sign-painter could do it. Is n't it, 
Mother ? " 

Mrs. Traftbrd, who sat by the table with her 
sewing, watching her children with motherly 
interest, thought it very promising. 

" Now, if I can put on the ]jaint without 
overrunning the lines, it will be just perfect," 
said Toby. 

" I suppose you 'II spoil it with your daubing," 
said Mildred gaily. " Now, about the index ; 
that is going to be the bother." 

She held the board before her, examining her 
lines in the lamplight. 

" Why, no ! Do as 1 said," cried Toby. He 
laid his fist against it, for her to mark around. 
" There you have it ! " 

" How can I mark around anything that 
does n't lie flat on the surface ? " Milly asked. 
" It is n't enough, Toby, that you are rather flat 
yourself; your fist is too bunchy. Come ! I 've 
a better idea than that." 

She placed the board against a jiile of books, 
at one end of the table, and set the lamp at the 
other; then made Toby hold his hand, with 
thumb raised and forefinger outstretched, where 
the shadow from it would fall in the right place, 
on a comer of the sign. 

" But, don't move ; if you do, you will 
spoil it." 

" 'I'hen let me rest my elbow somewhere," he 
said, reaching for a chair. " Now go ahead 1 " 

With one knee on a cricket, and his arm on 
the back of the chair, he pointed as if his finger 
and thumb had been a cocked pistol, aimed at 
his mother's work-bag. The silhouette cast on 
the board was perfect; and Milly leaning across 
from the other side of the table, where she could 
work without being in her own light, made haste 
to pencil the outline. 

Toby wanted to get his cu]) of black ]jaint 
and begin filling in the letters that night ; but 
with a smile, Mrs. 'I'rafford pointed at the clock. 

" Yes, I know ! " he said, yielding reluctant 



obedience. " I must go to bed 
up at daylight in the morning.' 

But I shall be 

Chapter XXVII. 


It was a more trying and toilsome task than 
the painting of the name of the " Milly." The 
angles of the smaller letters, and the finger and 
thumb of the hand, gave him especial trouble. 
Where the lines were straight, he sometimes 
used strips of tin as a foil to his brush ; but as 
The next day, Toby had his own boat and often flung them away, thinking he could do 
the Whitehall boat ready for patrons, who, better without them. It was fortunate the back- 
however, did not appear. He soon began to grounds were unpainted ; his daubs could after- 
think they never would appear. ward be erased from the plain board. 

True, the signboards were not yet mounted ; The color dried rapidly on the soft pine ; 

but in the first flush of hope, he had seemed to 
expect that an appreciative public would get 
word of his enterprise without them, and flock 
to its support. How often, he remembered, in 
seasons past, boats to let had been inquired 
for when there were none ; and now that they 
were provided, no one seemed to care for them. 
Milly had outlined the letters of the second 
.sign, " Boats to I-et," and he had painted both 
signs in the morning. He had begun them 
before breakfast, and finished them roughly l)y 
the middle of the forenoon. 

and in the afternoon he went to work again, 
trimming and scraping, with sandpaper and 
knife and bits of glass. Sometimes he stopped 
to talk with Milly, who came into the barn now 
and then, to give him the benefit of her criti- 
cisms. .\nd all the while he kept an eye out 
for possible patrons coming to his wharf. 

Once, when gazing from the open door, 
he noticed something of taking place 
on the lake. Yellow Jacket's boat, containing 
Yellow Jacket and three companions, put out 
from the shore at the foot of Tazwell's lane, and 


rowed to the scene of the burning of the scow. 
There it paddled about in an uncertain sort of 
way, or lay adrift on the tranquil water, while 
Toby could see all heads bowed over the sides, 
as if peering into the de^ :hs below. 

" It is Tom, looking for his rifle," he said, 
talking aloud to himself, as boys, and even men, 
sometimes will. 

Tom had seemed to be quite indifferent to 
the recovery of his gun, while negotiating for 
Aleck's. Toby inferred that that trade had 
fallen through. 

" It 's Aleck with him, and Butter Ball, and 
that is Yellow Jacket throwing off his clothes. 
He is going to dive ! " 

Toby ran into the house and brought out his 
mother's opera-glass. Yellow Jacket had not 
yet made a plunge. He was in the water, how- 
ever, bobbing his head under now and then, and 
holding his face submerged, as if to get a bet- 
ter view of the bottom of the lake than was 
possible with his eyes above the reflecting 

" They are too early in the day," said Toby, 
observing every movement through his glass. 
" They can see better after the sun gets off the 
water. Besides," lowering his glass and measur- 
ing distances with his naked eye, " they are not 
within five or six rods of the spot where Tom 
threw his gun overboard. I could tell them 

Tom himself seemed to think so ; for Toby 
could see him pointing in the right direction. 
Yellow Jacket climbed into the boat and sta- 
tioned himself at the bow, while it slowly moved 
farther up the lake. He put up his hand. The 
oars were poised ; the ripples subsided ; all 
heads once more bowed over the sides. 

" They are not in the right place yet," said 
Toby ; " they are too far in toward the cove. 
I steered that scow, and I know just the course 
it took. Ah ! there goes Yellow Jacket ! " 

Yellow Jacket stood up on the bow — a fine 
model for a statue of a diver — his wet hair 
pushed backward, his hands thrown upward 
and forward, and the palms pressed together. 
He poised himself a moment, then made a 
magnificent curving leap. His heels went up, 
his liead -wetit'-'down, following his hands, 
Which cut the wave ; there was a silvery 

in the sunshine, and he had disappeared. A 
very pretty sight through Toby's glass. 

He was gone about a minute — and a minute 
seems a long while, not only to a diver, but to 
spectators waiting to see him come up. Would 
he find the gun ? And even if he did, would 
he be able to bring it to the surface ? His com- 
panions in the boat could hardly have been more 
interested in the result than was Toby, standing 
in the barn-door with his glass. 

The rings of ripples from the plunge had 
reached the shore of the cove on one side, and 
spread far out across the lake on the other; the 
water was still again all about the boat, and the 
boys in it were shading their eye.s, looking down 
intently to discover the diver, when his drip- 
ping head came quietly to the surface two or 
three rods away. 

Toby saw it before they did. Yellow Jacket 
tossed back his wet hair, shook the little streams 
of water from his face, and threw up his empty 

" No gun ! " said Toby, with a laugh. The 
voices of the diver and his companions came to 
him across the lake. Yellow Jacket climbed 
back into the boat, and in a little while dove 
again in another place. Toby watched to see 
him emerge once more empty-handed, then 
resumed his work. 

He looked out occasionally and saw that 
Yellow Jacket, after diving two or three times 
with no better success, finally put on his clothes. 

" They have given it up, for the present at 
any rate," Toby said. Then, as the boat, in- 
stead of returning, moved off up the lake : 
" They will come back and try again after the 
sun gets behind the trees." 

He was leaning over a signboard which he 
had set aslant on the work-bench, when some- 
body stepped across the threshold behind him. 
As he had both hands occupied, one holding a 
strip of tin over a letter to protect it, while the 
other scraped some smears from the edge of it, 
he could n't conveniently look around. But he 
had no doubt the comer was Milly. 

" What have you got to say now ? " he asked. 
" Some disagreeable fault-finding, of course ! 
Well ! look, and be as saucy as you can ! " 

So saying, he drew back to let his finished 
letters be seen. .;iiMMi.<i<..i jiij in -jiMirn 



" I have no occasion to be saucy or disagree- 
able," said a very different voice from the one he 
had expected to hear. 

" Mr. Allerton ! " he e.xclaimed, in consterna- 
tion. " I beg ten thousand hundred milHon 
pardons ! " 

" For what ? " said the schoolmaster quietly. 

" For my blunder 1 For speaking so to you," 
replied the stammering and blushing Toby. " I 
— I thought it was — somebody else! " 

" Then ask pardon of that somebody else, not 
of me," said Mr. Allerton with a smile. 

Chapter XXVIII. 


" As for the fault-finding," the schoolmaster 
continued, cutting short Toby's awkward apol- 
ogies. " I have scarcely any to offer. I 
would n't have believed you could design the 
letters so well. You really have talent, Tobias ! " 

" It is n't my talent, I am sorry to say," the 
boy replied ; " it 's my sister Mildred's. She 
drew the letters, and I have been doing all I 
could to spoil them with my daubing." 

" Indeed, you have n't spoiled them, by any 
means. After a little touching up they will look 
very well. The signs won't be ready for mount- 
ing till to-morrow, I suppose. For that reason 
would n't this afternoon be the best time to 
row across to the Springs and look at that 
other boat ? " 

" Perhaps — but — ," said Toby, doubtfully, 
" I 've been thinking the thing over, and won- 
dering whether it would n't be better for me to 
see what I can do with the boats I have, before 
getting any more." 

" That 's a prudent consideration," replied the 

" The whole thing may turn out to be a miser- 
able failure," said Toby. 

" To be sure ; quite possible," Mr. Allerton 
admitted, arranging his mat of hair, while he 
fanned his face with his hat. 

That was not the sort of answer to his doubts 
Toby had hoped to hear. 

" I don't think I ought to risk very much to 
begin with." 

" I certainly should n't advise you to," said 
the schoolmaster. 

'• I don't see how I am to get that other 
boat," Toby went on, more and more needing 
encouragement, " without paying for it, and I 
don't want to borrow the money, even of you." 

'' Quite right ; it is a wise conclusion," said 
Mr. Allerton. " But I have an idea of my own ■ 
about that. If it is such a boat as you describe, 
I think I will buy it for my own use, get you to 
take care of it at your wharf, and give you the 
letting of it, when you have a chance, to pay 
you for your trouble." 

"Oh, Mr. Allerton! you are too generous!" 
Toby exclaimed. " I shall be only too glad to 
take care of it for you without any pay." 

'• We will arrange that. If it is a good row- 
boat, and also carries a sail well, it is just what 
I would like, and I 've no doubt you will find 
a use for it." 

" I hated to give up that sail ! " said Toby, 
with rising enthusiasm. 

" And now," resumed the teacher, " if you 
have no objection, we will take a leisurely pull 
up the lake and look at the craft." 

Toby was delighted. He hastened to put on 
his coat and get a pair of oars. 

" I am going to make a long box, that I can 
lock up all my oars in, at the wharf," he said, as 
they started off. " I shall have plenty of lei- 
sure, while waiting for customers. Too much 
leisure, I am afraid," he added with a laugh. 

" That is the great danger of an occuparion 
of that sort," Mr. Allerton replied. " It may 
lead to lazy habits. You must guard against 

" But how can I ? " Toby asked. '• If I at- 
tend to my business, I must spend much of my 
time waiting." 

'• To be sure. But you can always have 
something to take up your mind, and fill an odd 
quarter of an hour. There is nothing better 
for that purpose than a good book. Continue 
some of the studies you were obliged to break 
off when you left school. Read histor)-, biog- 
raphy, a good magazine ; you will find even a 
popular work on astronomy or geology ex- 
tremely interesting. You can be storing your 
mind and picking up bits of information which 
will be of more value to }0u than all the money 
)ou will make with your boats. Few people 
are aware how much useful knowledtre can be 


acquired in the course of a year merely by 
taking advantage of the leisure moments that 
might otherwise be wasted. When I was of 
your age I took up Latin for my own mental 
satisfaction, and, by giving an hour a day to 
it, read all of Virgil before I ever had a Latin 

" Oh, I never could do that ! " Toby ex- 

'• Perhaps not. And it is n't everybody 1 
would advise to undertake it : though a know- 
ledge, even a slight knowledge, of some other 
language, like Latin, or French, or German, is 
a wonderful aid in teaching us the laws and 
analogies of our own. The commonest words 
we use are full of curious interest. What is 
that little animal running on the fence ? " Mr. 
.\llerton suddenly asked. 

'■ A red squirrel," said Toby. 

" Take that word ' red,' " continued the school- 
master. " It comes to us directly from the An- 
glo-Saxon, which forms the skeleton, so to speak, 
of our ; but it is a root which can be 
traced in many other languages, thus showing 
that they are all related to one another, and to 
some language probably older than any. .And 
the word ' squirrel ' ; what do you think it 
means ? " 

" It means a saucy little fellow that steals 
chestnuts and sweet apples, and somedmes de- 
stroys bird's eggs," replied Toby, laughing. 

•' But the word itself — you have used it 
hundreds of times, and never suspected that it 
is from two Greek words, signifying ' .shade-tail.' 
You will never forget that." 

" No ; it so exactly describes the thing ! 
' shade-tail ! ' " Toby repeated, watching the 
squirrel at that moment clinging to the stem 
of a tree, with its tail rolled over its back. 

'• How many words would be just as interest- 
ing if we could get at their original meaning I " 
Mr. AUerton went on. " Of very many we can. 
What is that bird on the elm-boughs ? " 

" An oriole ; fire-breasted hang-bird, some 
people call it, from the color of its breast, and 
the way it hangs its nest in the tall trees," said 
Toby. '• .Xnother name for it is the golden 

" All good names," said the .schoolmaster. 
" The last means nearly the same as the first. 


' Oriole' is a modification of the Latin aureola. 
from an rum, gold. It comes to us through the 
French. ' .\ureole,' the halo of golden light with 
which painters enrich the heads of saints, is the 
same word, with a diftcrent application. Then 
we have 'auriferous,' gold-bearing, as 'aurifer- 
ous quartz,' from auruin and fero. From the root 
oi fero, to bear, we have a great many words — 
' prefer,' to bear before ; ' differ,' to bear asunder ; 
and so forth. There 's no end to these deriva- 
tions and analogies. What is that boy carrying 
on his shoulder ? " 

" We call that a 'bat,'" said Toby. 

" It is for ' striking ' a ball," said his friend. 
" The word ' bat ' is from the same root as the 
word ' beat ' which is Anglo-Saxon ; but undoubt- 
edly related to the French battre, to beat, which 
comes from the Latin. From these we have 
two families of words, which we may call second 
cousins. You ' batter ' a wall. A cook makes a 
•batter' by beating up ingredients. Opposing 
forces meet, and there is a 'battle.' Hence also 
' battalion,' ' battledore,' ' battue ' (a beating of the 
bushes for game), 'combat,' andsoonindefinitely. 
It is useful to know enough of Latin merely to 
understand the force of the prefixes with which 
it has fairly peppered and salted our language." 

"I believe I must learn a little Latin — if 
only a little," said Toby. 

" I shall be only too glad to direct you in 
that or any other study," Mr. Allerton replied. 
" To say nothing of what may come of it in the 
future, you will be a great deal happier to have 
your time and your thoughts occupied when 
business is slack. Don't settle down into a 
contented idler. Don't drift ; set a sail of some 
sort. Have a port in view, and steer for it, even 
if you never reach it. Strive, my boy ! strive! " 
he said, with each word giving Toby a light, 
quick tap on the shoulder. 

Chapter XXIX. 


Thkv were standing on the wharf. Toby 
had his boat alongside, holding ii with an oar. 
which he used in pushing it off, after they had 
stepped aboard. 

Mr. .\llerton insisted on rowing ; and Toby, 
reluctantly consenting, took the tiller. Mr. 



AUerton laid aside his coat, which he folded 
carefully, and placed in the bow, with his hat. 
Then he arranged his little twist of blond hair, 
and tied a handkerchief on his head. Seating 
himself with his back to the afternoon sun, he 
adjusted the oars to the rowlocks, and pulled 
with even, steady strokes, like a man who — as 
Toby suggested — had seen a boat before. 

Toby described the scene on the lake which 
he had witnessed that afternoon ; and said he 
would like just for the fun of the thing to steer 
to the spot where he thought Yellow Jacket 
ought to have dived for the gun. 

" Now, slow, if you please, Mr. Allerton ! " he 
said, leaning forward with one hand on the 
tiller, and the other resting on the rail. " We 
are on the right course ; and it is just ahead. 
Oh, don't I remember this spot, off the broad 
cove, and what happened here, once upon a 
time ! There ! hold your oars, if you please ! 
Now back water ! " 

He took a careful survey of the surroundings, 
the deep indentation of the cove, the cattails 
growing by the shore, the trees on the banks, 
the ice-house across the lake, and other land- 
marks ; and declared his belief that they were 
within two or three rods of the very place where 
the boat-load of hay was discovered to be on 

■' It was very soon after that," he said, " that 
Tom threw his gun and his dog overboard, and 
went over himself after them. I laugh when- 
ever I think of it ! Though I did n't .see much 
to laugh at, at the time." 

He knelt in the bottom of the boat, with his 
head bent low over the side. 

" It 's a good day to look for things on the 
bottom," he said ; " Tom and Yellow Jacket 
could n't have chosen a better. The water is 
so still and clear ; there has been no storm lately 
to stir it up. Now, if the boat will stop rocking 
and making ripples ! " 

" But it is n't a very clean bottom," said Mr. 
Allerton, with his head also bent over the shady 
•side of the boat. " All I can see is the reflection 
of my own face, with the handkerchief on ni}- 

" If it was a gravelly bottom, it would be easy 
enough to find anything," said Toby : " for the 
water here is n't more than fifteen feet deej). I 

have measured it with a fish-line many a time. 
It 's a muddy bottom, so near the color of the 
gun that I don't believe Tom or anybody else 
will ever see it again." 

" He might dredge for it," said Mr. Allerton. 
" If it was my gun, I would get a long-toothed 
iron rake, lengthen the handle by lashing some 
sort of pole to it, and rake till I found it. But 
it seems as if we ought to see it, if it is here. 
I believe I can distinguish the bottom ; a brown 
mud, with the sunshine on it." 

"I see that," Toby replied. "And — oh!" 
he suddenly exclaimed, — "oft' here at your 
right, Mr. Allerton ! " 

"Something lighter-colored than the mud ?" 
said the schoolma.ster. " I believe you are 
right ! " 

"But what can it be?" said Toby. "It 
does n't look like any part of the barrel or 
stock of a rifle. It looks like the butt-end ! " 

" That 's just what it is ! " Mr. Allerton ex- 
claimed. " The gun evidently went down muz- 
zle foremost, and it is sticking up in the mud. 
In the last position I should have thought of 
looking for it I " 

" It is clear as anything to me, now you 
explain it," Toby declared. " I can see a part 
of the stock, where it slants down into the mud. 
It is a very soft bottom all along here; nearer 
the shore you can thrust a fish-pole into it six 
or eight feet, with the slightest pressure." 

" I believe, if we had a very simple arrange- 
ment, we could fish up that gun, by getting a 
line around it. We have n't anything, have 
we ? " Mr. Allerton inquired. 

" I have nothing but a," said Toby. 
" We might borrow one of Mr. Brunswick's 
long-handled ice-hooks, and get it up with that ; 
if I cared to do Tom Tazwell a good turn," he 
added, as if suddenly losing his interest. 

" Don't you care to ? " Mr. .Allerton asked. 

■■ I don't know why I should ! " said Toby. 
with gloomy recollections of his wrongs. 

" You ought to find satisfaction in doing him 
a good turn," replied the schoolmaster. " Did 
you ever think seriously of what a certain book 
says of returning good for evil ? " 

Toby remained silent and thoughtful for a 
moment. Then he said : 

" We have been lucky in hitting the exact 


spot ; if we row away without leaving some 
mark, it may not be easy to timl it again. I 've 
an idea." 

" What is it ? " 

'• If I could get at the locker here, at the 
stern, without rocking the boat — see how easy 
it rocks ! Never mind ; it will have a chance 
to get still again." 

Toby took from the locker a |)air of galva- 
nized iron rowlocks. 

" We can fasten an end of my fish-line to one 
of these," he said, " drop it down beside the gun, 
and leave a float tied to the other end. Then 
if we meet Tom — for he went off up the lake 
with the other boys — I can tell him where he 
will find his rifle." 

" Capital ! " exclaimed Mr. Allerton. 

And they proceeded to carry out Toby's 
plan. When the surface of the lake became 
once more quiet, the rowlock was let down 
carefully until it rested on the bottom, plainly 
visible, within two or three feet of the gun. 
For a float, Toby used the cork the fish-line had 
been wound upon, making it fast by the fish- 
hook at the end. When he dropped it on the 
water, he was pleased to see that no part of the 
line was left visible at the surface. It looked 
like an old cork adrift, and nothing more. 

Then they rowed away, up the lake. 

" There 's the little strip of meadow where we 
got the hay we burned up," said Toby, after 
they had passed the field of cattails by the 
shore. "That belongs to Mr. Tazwell. Our 
lakeside lot is just around that point of rocks." 

" Do you own a lot u]) here ? " the school- 
master inquired. 

" My mother does ; twenty-five acres. It runs 

up to the road. Did n't I ever tell you how 
we came by it ? Mr. Tazwell turned over to 
her, in place of money he owed her, a mortgage 
that had to be foreclosed. It 's a pretty lot," 
said Toby ; " but there 's no sale for it, and all 
she gets out of it is a few dollars that are paid 
for the sheep and cows that are pastured on it. 
Hallo ! " 

He heard the distant crack of a rifle, and 
listened till it was repeated. 

" That 's Aleck Stevens's gun," he said ; " 1 
believe the boys are up on our lot. I hope 
they '11 leave the swallows alone ! " 

" The swallows ? " queried the .schoolmaster. 

" We have on our lot," said Toby, " a real 
curiosity, — an immense hollow tree inhabited 
by swallows. There are hundreds of them ; I 
might say thousands. It is n't far up from the 
lake; you ought to see it." 

" That 's just what I should like to do," said 
Mr. Allerton. 

" It 's an old chestnut-tree ; the largest I ever 
saw," said Toby. " The best time to see it is 
after sunset, when the swallows are returning 
to their nests. They come in a perfect cloud ; 
they circle round and round, fly off, wheel, come 
back, then one by one — sometimes a stream of 
them in quick succession — throw up their wings, 
fluttering and chippering, and drop into the top 
of the trunk, as if it was a chimney. But some- 
times," Toby added, " mischievous boys find 
their pleasure in firing stones at the birds." 

The reports of the rifle were repeated. 

" I hope those fellows are not shooting at 
anything but a mark 1 " said Toby. " There 's 
Yellow Jacket's boat hauled up by the shore. 
I '11 run mine in alongside it." 

{To i't' contititit-i^.) 


Bv Caroline Evans. 

It happened one moming a wee bab)- girl 
Discovered what seemed like a cunning, white pearl. 
But when her friends hastened to see the fine sight, 
She closed its small casket and locked it up tight. 



When first I owned my beautiful microscope 
I made a great blunder. I had some pond 
water to examine, and when I found anything 
peculiar in it — for instance, a body without a 
head but with six horns in place of a head — 
I would cry, " Oh, do come quick, and see 
this curious creature! It has six horns where 
its head ought to be — and — look, now each 
horn is growing so long you have to move the 
slide to find the ends." Then they would come 
crowding around, father, mother, brothers, and 
sisters, and by the time they finished peering 
through the brass tube, the elastic creature had 
betaken himself to pastures new. But tiny as 
these pastures were — an acorn's cup would 
hold dozens — it was no easy matter to find 
again my little runaway friend. 

Then I tried a new plan. When I found 
anything new and curious — and this often 
happened — I would keep as still as possible, 
watching carefully every movement, and not- 
ing the form, so that I could afterward look 
out its name and learn its peculiarities. But 
my sagacious family soon discovered the ruse. 
If I remained quietly observant for five min- 
utes at a time, some one would say : " You 're 
very much too quiet. What have you cap- 
tured now ? Let me see." 

I write this to show that though the path of 
the microscopist is strewn with roses, still a ])ro- 
truding thorn will now and then be felt. 

Another drawback to the study of microscopy 
is the disproportionately long names employed 
for the tiniest creatures. It is a wonder how 
one so small that with the naked eye you can- 
not see it at all, should survive such a name 
as Stephanoceros eichornii. But it does. The 
name does n't cause the creature half as much 
trouble, apparently, as it causes me. 

Let me tell you of some of the wonderful 
things I have seen. Once I put a little hay in a 
tumbler, covered it with water, and set the glass 

in a warm place for a day or two. Then, with a 
medicine-dropper, I put a drop of the water on a 
glass slip, covered it with a very thin glass wafer 
the size of a cent, placed it under my microscope, 
adjusted the focus, and what a sight met my 
eyes ! Dozens and dozens of what looked like 
animated drops of jelly were darting here and 
there, bumping against one another, or dodg- 
ing one another like school-boys at recess. 
Perhaps, among the crowd of smaller ones 
would dash a much bigger fellow. I fancied 
it might be a big brother, older than the others 
by some hours, and so entitled to the deference 
he seemed to exact. Then, in another part of 
the drop of water, the little ones formed almost 
a circle, and presently in the center of this came 
a big fellow — he must have been at least yi ^ of 
an inch long — who began revolving slowly. 
" P. T. Barnum," I thought to myself. " That 
is exactly the way I have seen him address an 
audience surrounding a circus ring." But I can 
never know what he told the small ones, for not 
even the " little ghost of an inaudible squeak" 
reached my ears. Besides these litde creatures, 
I could see what looked hke dark specks darting 
about. Determined to find out what these were, 
I used a stronger magnifying glass, and looking 
through it the specks proved to be other little 
swimmers such as I had just been examining, 
and the latter, of course, seemed larger. But 
now there were still other specks darting about, 
so a still stronger glass was used, with the same 
result. Magnify as I might, I could not reach 
a point where there were not some moving 
atoms needing further magnifying. I have 
since learned that no glass has ever been made 
powerful enough to reveal the tiniest of these 
" infusoria," as they are called. 

Among these same little creatures I once had 
the luck to find an " amceha." This I can liken 
to nothing but a tiny bit of thin jelly. A sort 
of arm is pushed out and then the rest of the 


body draws up into the arm, until it is again 
without any definite form. Then another arm- 
like protuberance appears, perhaps on an en- 
tirely different side, and the puUing-up process 
is repeated. This is the way my amceba gets 
from place to place, and, all things considered, 
it makes pretty good speed. In springtime 
these little creatures may be found in great num- 
bers on the under sides of lily-pads. 

Among the most beautiful of pond-water ani- 
mals are the vorticelfidce. One of them might 
almost pass for a tiny, single blossom of the 
lily-of-the-valley, with a thread attached to it. 
By this thread it is usually anchored to the 
leaf of some water-plant. 
Every few seconds, or 
minutes, the vorticella will 
close up into a ball, and 
(juickly sink to the leaf. 
In a moment it begins 
slowly swaying upward, 
the thread in a spiral 
shape until the flower 
reaches the end of its 
tether, when it straightens. 
Then the cup-shaped 
CLUSTER OK flower opens and a row of 

tiny hairs around the edge 
of the flower begin thrashing the w-ater with 
all their little might, to draw into the flower 
morsels of nourishment which the water contains. 
This is the usual way of feeding among these 
little creatures. Sometimes a single one is found 
sailing through the water and you have to move 
the slide around very deftly to keep it in 
view ; for these same little hairs that secure the 
food act as oars also. Once I was fortunate 
enough to find a perfect colony of vorticellre, 
thirty-.six of them, in a .single drop of water, and 
all swaying up and dow-n almost as if some 
microscopical minuet were in progress. 

Now, suppose these were large enough for 
great, awkward human beings to handle, and 
sup]30se one were to fasten together several 
dozens of them by the ends of their thread- 
like supports, till the mass looked like a wOieel 
of vorticella:, would it not be a most beautiful 
sight ? There is just such a wonderful little 
creature as would be thus formed ; twice I have 
seen it. Its name is conochiliis. 

If in pond water you should find, revolving 
slowly, some round balls of the loveliest green 
color, and covered with a delicate network, you 
may read about them in any book on microscopy, 
under the heading Volvo.x. Inside may be seen 
smaller balls of the same kind. By and by the 
big ball will break open and free the little ones, 
each of which will then grow and grow, until 
in due time it will break open too, and still 
newer balls begin their roving lives. Wherever 
two meshes of the confining net cross, are two 
hairs, so small that they are altogether invisible 
e.\cept under a very powerful microscope. 
These hairs, like those on the vorticellse, are 
used in securing food and in moving about. 
Volvox, however, is classified as a plant and 
not as an animal. 

I must not forget my friend the water-bear. 
He is such a comical, clumsy fellow. He goes 
slowly about on his eight little feet, poking and 
plodding among the minute water-plants, al- 
ways sure of finding something good to eat. 
He is the very embodiment of indolent content. 
Yet for all he seems so .satisfied with his lot in 
life, his personal appearance is not always 
pleasing to himself; for at intervals he slips 
bodily out of his skin, and appears in an entirely 
new .suit, though I must confess the general 
style of the cast-off dress is retained. Instead 
of throwing the old suit aside, as certain bigger 
and clumsier creatures do, he gets out of it so 
deftly that it stands upright and complete, even 
to his four pairs of shoes. 

When the mother bear slips out of her olil 
dress, she leaves some eggs in it. In a few days 
these hatch and some baby bears begin swim- 
ming around in the cast-off skin. But only for 
a short time. They soon find their way to the 
feeding-grounds, and at once begin climbing 
slowly about, and seem as much at home as 
are their parents. 

But not all that is interesting for the micro- 
scope is found in pond water. Look at these 
scales from a butterfly's wing. Each is oblong, 
and at one end are projections almost like the 
fingers on a glove — only these " fingers " are 
usually slender, though sometimes you will find 
them blunt and short. In summer it is easy to 
secure the scales. Catch a butterfly or moth, 
give its wing a gentle brush, and you will have 


dozens ; but in doing so, " use him as though The body of the larva is covered with mi- 
you loved him," as good Izaak \\'alton says. nute hairs of three kinds. The abdomen ter- 

Look at the little brown fan on this .slide. But minates in a long tail, or pencil of hairs which 
did you ever see the 
fan of a lady, made of 
so wonderful a fabric ? 
Titania herself might 
be proud to own this 
charming plaything. 
and truly it is worthy 
of her. In reality it 
is nothing more nor 
less than an antenna 
of the cockchafer, or 

This piece of some- 
thing that looks like 
honeycomb we will 
examine next. It 
seems rather uninter- 
esting, does it not ? 
Hardly, when I tell 
you that each one of 
those dozens and hun- 
dreds of hexagonal 
sections contains an 

eye ; and an insect so ■''^"' "'' "rva 

small as the common fly finds a pair of these 
eyes very desirable. This must be the reason 
that one so seldom can capture a fly, even by a 
cautious flank movement. For what chance has 
a creature with only two eyes, against an insect 
with so many more eyes than Argus himself? 

On the next slide we may see a labyrinth 
very much more complicated than the Cretan 
maze in which Theseus found himself when he 
started out so pluckily to kill the Minotaur. 
This is a bit of common sponge, so small that it 
can hardly be discerned by the naked eye. 

Few who have collections of butterflies ever 
suspect what a marvelous little creature is to 
be found pre)'ing upon these gorgeous and 
beautiful insects. There is a small beetle who 
rejoices in a name several sizes too large for 
him. He is called Atta genus pellio. The larva of 
this beede is about one-eighth of an inch long. 
The head is very small, and the legs are short. 
It casts its skin a number of times before 
changing into a pupa, and these tiny, empty 
skins you may find in your butterfly collection. 

are covered with an immense number of tiny 
spines. These hairs, however, present no re- 
markable features. Man\- 
insects are furnished with 
similar ones. Besides 

these, each segment of the 
larva is furnished with two 
rows of club-shaped hairs, 
and between these are the 
wonderful " arrow-hairs." 
The last three segments of 
the larva are crowded with 

The large picture is a 
photograph showing a por- 
tion of the skin of the larva 
(the whole skin, you re- 
member, is only about one- 
eighth of an inch long), 
which fairly bri.stles with 
these weapons. The small 
|)icture shows a single hair 
enlarged hundreds of times. 




lust how many times you may yourselves cal- migratory arsenal), my little soldier drives one 
culate when you know that fifty of these hairs of these arrows into him, and away comes the 
could be crowded into the space occu])ied by arrow-head, broken off short at the slender neck. 

I f you find one of the 
I ast skins you may 
handle it with impuni- 
ty, because the skin of 
the finger is thick ; but 
draw it across your lip 
and you experience a 
burning sensation. This 
is because each hair is 
traversed by a tube 
which contains a poi- 
■^onous substance, and 
-o each little arrow is 
really poisoned. This 
undoubtedly causes in- 
tense pain, and prob- 
ably death to the 
insect receiving it. 

When an arrow is 
thus broken off, a most 
I urious and most won- 
derful transformation 
takes place. The shield 
next to the arrow be- 

the point of a fine needle. Each hair termi- comes, in course of time, a new arrow and 
nates in an arrow-shaped point; just below it is a cup-shaped segment next to the shield be- 
a shield-shaped segment, and then follow from comes a new shield. So you see the little war- 
twenty to forty other segments, cup-shaped, and rior may be the hero of a hundred conflicts, yet 
fitting into one another, like the pretty lilac- bear no scar. * 


^ ^ a t" ?*"""' 


blossoms when you make them into chains. 

When another insect, an ant, for instance, 
attacks this wonderful larva (and a very cou- 

When you have advanced far enough in the 
science of microscopy to mount your own speci- 
mens, you may like to have some of these skins. 
In the spring or summer catch and kill half a 
dozen butterflies, put them in a cardboard 
box, and in a month you will have an ample 

Here is a curious bit of something clo.sely 
studded with tiny anchors. .As anchors are 
mainly useful in water, of what value can these 
miniature ones be? We are looking at a bit 
of the .skin of the sea-cucumber {Synapfa 
girardii). In shape this animal is more like a 

rageous ant it would have to be to besiege this worm than like anything else, and it moves 

* A full account of this marvelous little insect has been written by Dr. II. Hensoldt, of Columbia College, in 
the Journal of the New York Microscopical Society for January, 18S9. The author .icknowledges her indebtedness 
to Dr. Hensoldt for preparing the slides from which the photomicrographs used to illustrate this article were made ; 
also to Professor William Stratford and Mr. Kdgar J. Wright for taking the photographs from the slides. 

from place to place by means of suckers. When 
It wishes to remain quiet, the anchors, which 
have been closed over perforated, chalky plates, 
are extended outward from the body, and fasten 
the little creature securely to the sand or mud. 

The sea-cucumbers found on our coasts are 
small, seldom over four inches in length, though 
larger kinds abound in the Bay of Fundy, and 
upon the mud-flats of Florida. The 
Chinese call a larger species " tn 
pang," and when dried and 
preserved in a particular 
way it is considered 
a great delicacy 

When I look 
at this slide I 
wonder if man 
first got his 
idea of an an- 
little creature. 
Yet anchors 
were in use 
long before mi 
croscopes, and the 
little anchors are 
much too small to be 
seen by the unaided eye 

I shall treat the readers of St 
Nicholas as I do other friends. I 
have saved my most wonderful slide till 
the last. Look at the lower picture. It is the 
slide as it appears to the naked eye. Then 
look at the larger picture, which is simply a 
photograph of the dot in the middle of the 
slide, as it appears when enormously magnified. 
I do not believe you ever would fancy that this 
was a spider's foot, yet that is what it is. It 
belongs to the emerald-spider, found in Texas. 
The combs are of the color of horn — a brownish 
yellow ; in fact, they look so much like two little 
old combs, a trifle warped by age, that whoever 
sees this slide for the first time is very likely to 
make some amusing exclamation. 

Every web-making spider is furnished with 
eight pairs of such combs, though few have as 
many teeth as those belonging to the emerald- 
spider. You may see a picture of a spider's 
foot in Carpenter's book on the Microscoiie, but 
the combs shown there have only a few teeth. 


For a long time the use to which these comlis 
were put was the subject of much discussion. 
Spiders are divided into two classes : the hunting 
spider, which has no combs at all, and the web- 
making spider. It is the latter that is furnished 
with the combs. From its own body the spider 
draws the thread for its web, a thick, jelly-like 
substance that soon hardens when exposed to 


the air. Often one sees 
a large spider hanging by 
a ^■ery slender thread. This 
would hardly be possible 
if the thread consisted of a 
single strand. The thread 
is made up of a number 
of these strands, and it is 
now believed that it is in 
the management of these 
that the spider uses its 
comb. Otherwise, even 
so deft a little spinner as 
tile spider would get the 
meshes of its web hope- 
lessly tangled. It is be- 
lieved, also, that the 
number of strands in the 
thread is the same as the 




number of spaces belwoen tlie teeth of the 

Almost as curious as the combs is the tuft or 
brush beneath them. This the spicier uses to clear 
his web of particles of dust that lodge upon it. 
Who would suspect any practical, bloodthirsty 
spider of actually using brushes and combs ? 

The world about us is filled with more won- 
ders than ever have been written of in books. 
Examine the very smallest objects of God's 
making, and see if you can find evidence of any 
but the most wonderful completeness. Every- 
thing is perfectly fitted and equipped for the 
place it fills in the world. 

A microscope has one great advantage over 
a photographic outfit; namely, that after you 
have purchased a good instrument the outlay 
demanded is almost nothing. In photography 
there is a continual need for plates and chemi- 
cals. Of course there are plenty of opportunities 
to spend money for various microscope accesso- 
ries, though very few of them can be classed under 
the head of necessities. If you look through 
a catalogue of microscopist's supplies, this will 
be hard to beheve ; but remember, the manu- 
facturers have, if not " an ax," certainly a lens, 
" to grind." 

A prominent microscopist, a member of the 
Royal Microscopical Society, told me that 
amateurs who load their cases with every pos 
sible and impossible appliance, and who care 
more for their instruments than for what they 
may see through them, are called " brass and 
glass " men. But, to tell you a secret, the real 
workers have an even worse name I They are 
called " slug and bug " men ! 

An elaborate and expensive outfit is not ne- 
cessary. The men who have made the most 
wonderful discoveries in this branch of science 
use instruments that would fill the soul of the 
average amateur with scorn. 

A. good, firm microscope stand will cost, per- 
haps, twenty-fi\e or thirty dollars ; and this, with 
an eyepiece and two good magnifying glasses 
(one of them a " one-half inch objective," the 
other a " one and a half inch objective "), ought 
to satisfy any but the most advanced student. 
Often it is possible to buy a microscope at 
second-hand for a much smaller sum than it 
would cost if new. Do not, however, buv a 

rickety or imperfect instrument because it is 
cheap. Ask the advice of some professional 
microscopist. There are more people inter- 
ested in this science than is commonly sup- 
loosed ; and, take my word for it, they are the 
most obliging persons in the world. 

Books on the subject are countless. Arm 
yourself, if possible, with the very latest edition 
of William B. Carpenter's famous and rather 
bulky book on the Microscope. When you 
have exhausted its contents, then look around 
for some other works with which to enlarge 
your knowledge and library. 

With no more of an outfit than I have sug- 
gested, you will have at hand the means for 
enjoying many quiet, happy hours. 

Besides the wonder of it all. remember the 
great benefit the microscope has been to man- 
kind. Think of Robert Koch, the now famous 
(ierman scientist who, a few years ago, and 
again recently, set the whole scientific world 
agog over his theories of the bacteria. Hun- 
dreds have been at work to prove or disprove 
what he has said, and a result is that societies 
for systematic study with the microscope are 
springing up in all civilized countries. 

Every one has heard of the practical use to 
which Louis Pasteur, the illustrious French 
chemist, has put his wonderful microscope. 
His discoveries have been of incalculable bene- 
fit to French grape-growers and silkworm cul- 
tivators. These industries were threatened with 
annihilation until Pa.steur, through his micro- 
scope, discovered the exact nature of the diseases; 
and, having found out the trouble, the remedy 
was not far to seek. 

Find somebody who owns a microscope. 
Examine it. Then buy one yourself, even 
though this may necessitate a little self-denial 
in other directions. 

With nothing more than a firm table, a good 
lamp, and my microscope, I can spend a whole 
evening by m)-self with pleasure and profit, 
even though the only thing I may have to ex- 
amine be a common daisy. If it is not the sea- 
son for dowers, I can take a little sugar or salt, 
dissolve it in water, and ])ut a drop of this 
water on a glass slip. I watch it carefully for a 
few minutes, and it begins to crystallize. While 
I see the tiny particles tly to their places, in obe- 


dience to a marvelous law, I think of Ruskin's 
" Ethics of the Dust," and of the wonderful 
words in which he has written for young read- 
ers about this crystallization. 

To those who are partially or wholly deprived 
of the sense of hearing (and for this affliction one 
is usually compensated by excellent eyesight) the 


microscope offers a field for investigation in which 
they may compete without any sense of being at 
a disadvantage by reason of their infirmity. 

The microscope is truly the doorway into 
a world of wonders more fascinating than was 
ever described or conceived of in the realms of 

he JffoicSMr 

By Oliver Herford. 

The Professor. 

Tell me, little violet white, 
If you will be so polite, 
Tell me how it came that you 
Lost your pretty purple hue ? 

Were you blanched with sudden fears ? 

Were you bleached with fairies' tears ? 
Or was Dame Nature out of blue, 
Violet, when she came to you ? 

The Violet. 

Tell me, silly mortal, first, 
Ere I satisfy your thirst 
For the truth concerning me — 
Why you are not like a tree ? 

Tell me why you move around. 

Trying different kinds of ground. 

With your funny legs and boots 

In the place of proper roots ? 

Tell me, mortal, why your head, 
Where green branches ought to spread. 
Is as shiny smooth as glass. 
With just a fringe of frosty grass ? 

Tell me — Why, he 's gone away ! 

Wonder why he would n't stay ? 

Can he be — well, I declare ! — 

Sensitive about his hair ? 

Vol. XVTII.-41. 


By Katharink McDoweli. Rice. 

y beloved journal ! 
At last I 've time ! " 
and so saying, Lena 
Meredith unlocked 
the upper drawer 
of her desk and 
took out a green- 
covered book with 
corners and back 
of dark red leather. 
Lena had given 
the greater part of 
the morning to 
sweeping and ar- 
ranging her room, 
and then devoted some time to her own ap- 
pearance, one of the finishing touches being 
the arranging of her hair in the new way the 
girls were all wearing it, and tying it with a 
ribbon to match the new cashmere dress she 
was putting on for the first time. 

And now she had sunk into an easy-chair in 
the sunny bay window with her journal. She 
had taken a newspaper out of the chair as she 
had seated herself, and had put it with the journal, 
on her lap. Some words in it caught her eye, 
" Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly." 
She read the sentence over two or three times. 
" Well, I don't know about that," she said to 
herself, as she folded the paper and laid it on the 
table near her. " I can think of things that 
would be awfully troublesome no matter how 
one did them. Imagine, now, if after I 'd ar- 
ranged my room and was all dressed, expect- 
ing Lottie or some of the girls, Harry should 
want me to go and paste pictures with him, or 
something Hke that. That would certainly be 
troublesome. Still, if I could do it willingly — " 
she glanced again at the paper. " ' Nothing is 
troublesome that we do willingly.' Yes, if one 
could make up one's mind to it. Still, I don't 
know, either, — " 

At this point, looking out of the window, she 

saw Harry being taken out for a drive by a 
gentleman who had lately come to live in the 
neighborhood and had shown a great liking 
for the child. Lena breathed a sigh of relief. 
Harry, at least, was not going to interfere with 
her morning. 

" Lena ! " came a voice from downstairs. 

" Yes, 'm," called Lena brightly, as she ran 
to her door, hoping to hear Lottie had come. 

" Lena, my dear," said her mother, whom 
Lena could not see, as she was just below the 
turn in the stairway, " Mary has looked so ill all 
the morning that I have sent her to bed. Will 
you come down and help me get dinner, dear, 
as soon as you can ? " 

The eager, expectant look on the little girl's 
face went utterly out. She who had looked so 
bright and pretty a moment before, as she turned 
her head toward the stairway to hear which of 
her friends had come, bore no resemblance to the 
dark, frowning girl who was now there. None, 
except that the cashmere and the ribbon were 
the same. 

A hundred thoughts rushed to her mind. 
Among them was : Why get any dinner ? Her 
father would not mind if they had a sort of lunch 
instead. She would suggest it. 

But — those words: " Nothing is troublesome 
that we do willingly ! " 

" Did you hear me, dear ? " 

" Yes, 'm," faltered Lena, and somehow she 
could not get any further. She stood there 
irresolute. How little a thing to make one's 
heart beat so fast ! to make one clench one's 
hands ! Yet her heart was beating rapidly and 
her hands were tightly closed. 

If Lena could have -.seen that anxious face 
below, perhaps the struggle would not have 
been so long. As it was, Mrs. Meredith did 
not notice that there was a pause between the 
faltering " Yes, 'm," and the cheerful " I 'II be 
down. Mother, just as soon as I can." 

" Are you wearing your new dress, dear ? " 


" Yes, 'm." 

" Well, I think you would better take it off." 

" Won't it do if 1 put on the big rubber apron ? 
That covers me all up, you know." But Lena 
didn't say this. She caught herself just in time, 
and only thought it instead. It was not so hard 
now as it had been a moment ago, perhaps, to 
meet these troublesome things. 

"All right. Mother; I will." 

The face below the turn of the stairs had 
undergone quite as much of a change as the 
one at the top. That look, betraying an anxiety 
as to how Lena would take the announcement 
that her Saturday — the day that was always 
allowed for herself — was to be broken into, 
changed into one of relief as Lena's answers 
came down the stairway. 

" Now, if I take it off, I must take it off will- 
ingly," said Lena, as she went to the glass and 
unfastened all the hooks on the pretty silk vest 
that fifteen minutes before she was fastening 
with such satisfaction. " I must hurry, too, or 
my good resolutions may be forgotten. And 
it is n't so hard to have to take it off when I 
know it 's to help mother. It took her days and 
days to make the dress, and it 's just as pretty 
as it can be," resting her hand lightly on the 
soft, full trimmings as she laid the waist away in 
her drawer. " There 's really something in that 
motto. Things really are not so troublesome 
as one would think." 

She had slipped into her working-dress again 
and was about going downstairs, saying to her- 
self, " I believe I '11 leave my dress-skirt right 
on the bed. I '11 want to put it on directly after 
dinner, and it 's such a bother to — but no, it 
is n't either," and she ran for a stool, stood 
upon it, and hung the pretty gray skirt in her 

" I started to get the turnips ready," said Mrs. 
Meredith, as Lena came into the kitchen, " but 
I had to come back to my preserves." 

She was bending over the fire, stirring the 
fruit, her face very red from the heat and 

" Are you preserving, Mother ? " exclaimed 
Lena. ■' I did n't know it." 

She wondered whether her mother were doing 
this hard work " willingly." Preserving always 
appeared to Lena one of the most troublesome 


of things. And her mother had even thought 
of getting the dinner, too — and that willingly ! 

" You ought not to have done anything about 
dinner, Mother." 

" I have n't done much but set the table, 
dear. I did n't like to interfere with your holi- 
day." Mrs. Meredith's voice was very cheery 
as she stirred away at the fruit. 

" She 's doing that thing willingly," Lena de- 
cided, and she herself took up with great spirit 
the turnip-paring her mother had begun. 

" I thought we 'd have the steak, mashed 
potatoes, and the turnips," said Mrs. Meredith. 
" And there 's a mince-pie all baked. It needs 
only to be put in the oven and thoroughly 

" Papa does n't like mince-pie very much. 
Sha'n't I make something for him ? " 

Mrs. Meredith turned to look at Lena. There 



she sat cheerfully slicing the turnips and saying, 
" Saturday 's a holiday for a professor as well 
as for a school-girl, and I think it would be 
nice to make papa's favorite dessert ! Don't 
you think so ? " 

" Well, I had thought, myself, that one of 


those sponge-cakes with some whipped-cream 
would be nice, and rather improve the dinner. 
But I did n't know that you would be willing 
to take the trouble." 

Willing — Inmble. Was the wliole world here- 
after to revolve around those two words ? 

It so happened that Lena did not get out 
the new dress again that day. By the time the 
dinner dishes were all out of the way, and the 
fruit all canned and labeled, there was not much 
time before some biscuits were to be made for 
supper, and with one demand and another it 
was nearly eight o'clock before she took up her 

She was seated in the easy-chair again, now, 
under the soft light of the lamp, and reaching 
for the paper on the table she cut from it the 
words : " Nothing is troublesome that we do 
willingly." They came at the end of a column, 
and on the margin below Lena wrote, " And 
there is really happiness if we do it." 

" I ought to have made my part sound more 
finished," thought Lena as she read it all over. 

'•If I had added, ' And willing doing brings 
happiness,' it would have rounded it out better. 
Still, happiness does n't wait till the end to come. 
Happiness goes right through it all. I wonder 
if I ought to write it all out in my journal : 
How I have resolved to take this as my motto 
through life, and tell about all that has hap- 
pened to-day ; how disagreeable things turned 
right into agreeable ones as soon as I did them 
willingly ? No, I think I '11 put only the motto 
with the date. Let me see," turning back the 
leaves, " what I wrote last Saturday. Oh, yes, — 
all about our going nutting in the morning, and 
our jolly ride home in the afternoon, and the tea- 
party at Flo's, and the cantata of ' Esther ' in the 
evening. Why, what a full day that was, and 
how very unimportant to-day is in contrast ! " 
Then, bending over the clear page, she wrote : 

" Saturday, Oct. 18. ' Nothing is troublesome 
that we do willingly.' .\ very uneventful day." 

And yet there never had come, and there 
never came, into Lena's life a more important 
dav than this. 

Dorothy, Dorcas and 

Each has been told to 

sit still. 
•'Do not peep 
Around to see 
If others behave 
As well as thee. 
But fold thy hands 
Upon thy knee 
And bo as good 
As good can be." 

:p'?, - :-^: ^^ 

^_ 1 Jhif assured imie,'t was jiis ir!aa"a 
tsiKt jfiis mj\olt eala.b]i5[^wei>t- 

;3P J) 1! JtiPclJi 

»^ ~.u, D«^ ».^^ ...H.; ^ 

pittj^ctl. his tcntr 



]T was five o'clock on one of those first 
cold evenings when boys, scarcely realiz- 
ing that summer is gone, forget to come 
into the house until the darkness drives 
them in. Arthur came flying into the 
pretty sitting-room bringing the frosty 
air with him. He had been raking a great pile 
of leaves ; and he held his cold hands to the 
grate as he hopped about, hoping there was 
something good for supper. 

" I '11 take a look into the kitchen and see for 
myself," he said. He came back presently with 
sati.sfaction all over his face. 

" There 's cold meat, and baked potatoes, and 
rice, and fruit, and cookies"; and he executed 
a different antic as he mentioned each appetiz- 
ing item. " That 's what I call a jolly supper, 
's])ecially the rice and cookies." (Arthur always 
said " cookies," although his Kentucky aunties 
tried to have him say " tea-cakes.") His mother 
sat by the table reading. She was one of that 

army of busy mothers who spend the whole day 
working for home and children, and in the even- 
ing snatch a brief hour in which to feed their 
own hungry minds. She had a book of history, 
now, and Arthur settled down quietly, for he 
knew it was her pet reading-hour. He was look- 
ing over the evening paper, having reached the 
mature age of ten, when the key rattled in the 
latch and his father came in. Arthur sprang to 
meet him and to relieve him of some of the 
bundles with which he always came loaded. He 
was a newspaper man, and his pockets generally 
bulged out with new magazines, " sample cop- 
ies," illustrated papers, and packets of fancy sta- 
tionery or advertising cards. 

"Oh, goody! the St. Nicholas," Arthur 
shouted, espying the cover projecting from his 
father's pocket. "Now for ' Lady Jane.' " 

" Wait until after supper and read ' Lady Jane ' 
aloud. I am as much interested in it as you," 
his mother said. .Arthur's attention was diverted 


just then by a small paper bag which his father 
laid in his mother's lap, and which was strongly 
suggestive of candy. He seized the bag and 
peered in. 

" Mama, don't you want a chocolate ? " 

" Not now, dear; it would spoil my appetite 
for supper." 

" I may have some, may n't I ? " And although 
his father suggested that he wait until after tea, 
Arthur placed the bag beside him, and, as he 
cut the jjages of the new magazine, his fingers 
made frequent journeys to the candy bag. When 
the tea-bell rang he gave a great jump. 

" Supper 's ready — come on ! " he said ; and 
as he rose the bag fell to the floor. His father 
picked it up. 

"Why, Arthur, — you greedy boy! — you 've 
eaten half the chocolates." 

Arthur looked into the bag, aghast at what he 
had done. 

" You '11 have to lay the blame on St. Nicho- 
las, Papa ; I did n't know what I was doing." 

" Next time, young man, be more consider- 
ate. I brought those to your mother," and his 
father tweaked his ear. The supper was a pleas- 
ant one ; the steam arose from the hot potatoes, 
and the faces of the younger children beamed 
rosily as they waved their threatening spoons 
over the bowls of rice temptingly prepared 
with yellow cream and a spoonful of jelly. But 
Arthur, after unfolding his napkin, sat languidly 
looking at the table. " We have n't a thing for 
supper that I like ! " he said petulantly. 

" Why, Arthur, what 's the matter ? Were n't 
you just rejoicing over the prospect of rice and 
cookies ? " 

"There 's no need of inquiring what 's the 
matter — a boy who has just eaten a dozen 
chocolate-creams simply cannot hold anything 
more. It 's a physical impossibility." And 
Arthur's father laughed as he looked at his rue- 
ful son. " Learn a lesson of moderation, my boy. 
Don't spoil a good healthy appetite with too 
much candy." After supper, Arthur stretched 
himself on the couch, for his head ached. His 
mother read aloud the instalment of " Lady 

Two evenings later Arthur threw down Sr. 
Nicholas. "There — I 'm ready for the next 

number, and I hope it will be as good as this 

His mother laid down her book and opened 
the magazine. " Do you mean to say you have 
finished this in two readings ? " 

Arthur was inclined to skim, and his mother 
frequently questioned him about his reading. 

"Yes 'm — I 've read it all and I have n't 
skimmed — or skum. Which is it ? " 

" It is skimmed. But I fear you have. ' 
Let me see," and she turned the pages. 
" \Vhat a feast of good things ! I don't blame 
you for devouring it — this ' David and Cioliath ' 
must be interesting; is n't it ? " 

'• David and Goliath I I don't remember 
that. Oh, yes, — about the ships. Well, you 
see I did n't read that, Mama. I thought it was 
one of those dry articles about machinery, and 
so I left that for some other time — some time 
when I felt more like studying over it." 

His mother said nothing but turned the 
leaves. " And this ' Through the Back Ages.' 
I wish, Arthur, you had saved that to read to 
me. We have geology in our home-reading 
course this year, and I would have enjoyed it 
with you." 

" Geology, — that 's all about stones and 
bones and coal and fern-leaves, is n't it ? Well, 
Mama, I thought that article was too old for 
me, so I did n't read it. Of course if you would 
read it with me I could understand it." 

His mother raised her eyebrows in a way 
that always made Arthur feel uncomfortable. 
He wriggled a little in his chair, but she went on 
turning the leaves. "Is the article on the ''Gator' 
a story or a description ? " she asked, at length. 

" The ' 'Gator,' Mama ? " 

" Yes ; that is, the ' Alligator.' " 

" I have n't read it yet. By the time I fin- 
ished ' Toby Trafford,' ' The Boy Settlers,' and 
the rest, my eyes hurt." 

His mother closed the book and laughed. 

" Arthur, you remind me of a woman I once 
heard of. She sent her daughter each week to 
get a book from a public library. She told her 
to look into the book, and said ' if there are lots 
of " Ohs" and " Ahs," 1 shall be sure to like it.' 
Now, you are very much like that woman — if 
you see plenty of ' Ohs ' and ' Ahs,' you read 
the story — if you don't, you skip it." 


Arthur smiled an ashamed smile. " But you 
know, Mama, the stories are so lively, you can't 
help reading them, and afterward, the other 
articles seem so — quiet, you know." 

His mother looked down a moment, as if 
in study. " Arthur, if you had a fairy wand, 
and could change each article in the St. Nicho- 
las into something to eat, what would the 
stories represent ? " 

" I don't know what you mean, Mama." 

"Well, what kind of food would best repre- 
sent ' Lady Jane,' ' Toby Trafford,' and those 
other fascinating tales?" 

" Candy, of course — great big marshmallows 
and chocolates, cream candy and nut candy, 
and taffy, too, — for that 's good, though it is n't 
so fine." 

" And those quiet, instructive articles, without 
any ' Ohs ' and ' Ahs,' which it seems you have 
not read ? " 

" I s'pose they'd be bread and butter, or 
oatmeal, or meat, or something like that." 

" Do you remember when you feasted on 
candy, the other night before supper? " 

" Well, I think I do ! I could n't eat any of the 
good supper, and had headache all the evening." 

" But the candy took away your hunger; did 
it not ? It took the place of supper." 

" It filled me up, but somehow it was n't 
so — satisfactious." Arthur sometimes coins a 
word. "And then the headache, you know, — 
of course I never ha\e that after eating potatoes 
or rice." 

" Well, now, my dear boy " (Arthur began 
to realize that a moral was coming), " your 
mind must be fed as well as your body. It 
is growing as rapidly — yes, more rapidly than 
your body, and it needs a daily supply of nour- 
ishing food. Don't you see that you are feed- 
ing it chiefly on candy ? You are giving it 
only what it fancies, without any thought as to 
whether a diet composed entirely of such food 
is sufficiently nourishing." 


" But, Mama, you yourself like all those sto- 
ries. Don't you remember how you slipped off 
and read ' Lady Jane ' all by yourself, the last 
time? " 

His mother laughed. " Indeed I do ; it was 
not generous, I know, but that very act proves 
my high opinion of stories. They have their 
place in literature, and a noble one it is ; not a 
serial in St. Nicholas but has some strong and 
true lesson within it ; something that should 
make one better and purer; but if you allow 
your love for stories full sway, it may entirely 
destroy your taste for anything else. You can 
no more build up your intellect on fiction alone, 
than you can sustain your body on sweetmeats 

" You would n't ask a boy to go without cake 
and candy forever, would you ? " Arthur asked 

" No, indeed ; the sweets, like the stories, are 
both desirable and necessary. But how about 
mingling the foods — both the mental and the 
moral food ? Take your bread and butter and 
meat as your main sustenance, and then your 
sweetmeats to add pleasure and variety to your 
meal. So with your reading. Do not read all the 
stories at once. That takes away an appetite for 
the less exciting but more instructive articles. 
Read a story and then read one of those ' quiet ' 
articles you speak of; something that will teach 
you some fact in nature or philosophy and will 
set you thinking. Stories, and nothing else, will 
give you dyspepsia of the mind, just as — " 

A gentle snore interrupted this flow of elo- 
quence. Arthur was sound asleep, but the next 
evening he was seen sitting somewhat apart 
from the family, with a most interested look 
upon his face. Occasionally he asked a ques- 
tion about animals, guns, and other things, and 
finally he closed the magazine with a satisfied 
bang and called out : 

" Why, Mama, the ' bread and butter ' is 
every bit as good as the ' candy ' ! " 

Sarah S. Pralt. 



Once upon a time there lived a pretty little kitten. His mother was 
just beginning to teach him how to catch mice. So, one day, he stole away 
and went down into a cold cellar to go a-hunting all by himself. " I '11 catch 
ever so many," he thought: "Six for mother, one for brother Spotty, one 
for Dotty, one for Scramble, one for Tumble, and two for poor little Flop 
who never is well." 

Then he sat and waited. " It is the way to begin," he thought; "and I 
must be very quiet, like mother!" At this moment something stirred 
a pile of turnips in the corner, and the top one fell off and started to roll 
along the cellar floor. 

Pussy flew upon it in a jiffy. " Good ! " he exclaimed, " I 've killed it — 
though it does n't seem to be a mouse. How cold and queer it feels ! I 
■wish Scramble was with me. Guess I '11 go back to mother as soon as I 've 
caught one real mouse." 

Just then he heard a hard, thumping sound. With a start and a jump 
he turned quickly, and if there was n't a great big turtle creeping toward 
him ! Turtles, you know, move very, very slowly. I suppose they find 
their hard shell rather heavy. 

" Oh, dear! I don't want to catch any mouse at all," said Puss to himself. 
" I'm scared. I want to go back." 

Still the turtle moved toward him, nearer and nearer. "Oh ! oh ! " thought 
Pussy, now afraid to move, " it 's going to pounce upon me. I know it is. And 
if I run away he '11 catch me, sure! " 

The turtle came closer. 

" Go 'way ! go 'way ! " cried Puss. " You just dare to touch me, and 1 '11 
o-ive your back such a scratch as you never had in all your life ! " 

The turtle turned around and waddled slowly off. 

" Now 's my chance," cried Puss, and he jumped upon the enemy. 

"The idea of that litde puss trying to hurt my hard back!" said the 
turtle to himself and he drew completely into his shell so that he might 
have a good laugh. 

"Dear me!" thought puss in horror, '"lolicrc has his head gone to? I 
must have bitten it off! What roill mother say ? " 

And he scampered away, as fast as his legs could carry him, to tell 
Spotty, Dotty, Tumble, Scramble, and Flop, the wonderful news. 





Good May to you, my friends ! That is to say ; 
Sweetness to you ! Brightness to you ! Blossom- 
time to you ! in brief, all the fresh glory of the 
spring to you! 1 trust I make myself clear? If 
not, just run out of doors on the first May morn- 
ing and ask what Jack means by all this ; and May 
herself will answer you. 

Meantime, here is a pretty song about her, 
which I am sure will please you, for it was written 
for you by Evelyn Austin, a fair young friend of 
St. Nicholas who loved all sweet and beautiful 
things : 


Merry, rollicking, frolicking May 

Into the woods came skipping one day ; 

She teased the brook till he laughed outright. 

And gurgled and scolded with all his might ; 

She chirped to the birds and bade them sing 

A chorus of welcome to Lady Spring; 

And the bees and the butterflies she set 

To waking the flowers that were sleeping yet. 

She shook the trees till the buds looked out 

To see what the trouble was all about ; 

And nothing in nature escaped that day 

The touch of the life-giving, bright young May. 


What is this I hear? Is it true that Prof. 
Gabriel Lippmann, a happy scientific Frenchman, 
has actually succeeded in photographing bright 
colors ? and that he intends to experiment until he 
can take photographs of flowers, trees, and even 
my very birds in the exact hues of life? Why, 
they say that even the blue eyes and rosy cheeks 
of boys and girls are to be caught in a snap, so to 
S[)eak ! 

Look into this matter, my chicks. When you 
see any grown person specially interested or ex- 

perienced in photography, ask the privilege of 
questioning him upon the subject. You hold his 
coat-button, and let him do the rest. 


Yes, and seven languages that we all understand 
pretty well, though we may not be able to speak 
them correctly. Your good friend Julie M. L., 
as you will learn from these lines lately sent you 
with her comphments, has listened to the cricket, 
the katydid, the locust, the tree-toad, the bullfrog, 
the lark, and the baby ; and this is her report of 


Crickets chirp, " Hello ! Hello ! 

Sun will shine. I tell jou so." 

Katydid of habit strict 

Makes a point to contradict. 

Locusts whirr, all in a swarm, 
" Lis — ten ' 'T will be ve — ry warm ! " 

Tree-toad thinks that 's cause to fret, 

Whines : " No heat ! I want it wet." 

Bullfrog's voice is thick and hoarse : 

Lazy thing croaks, " Cut across ! " 

Lark calls from the sunny sky, 
" I '11 reach Heaven by and by." 

Baby laughs, a merry crow, 
" I 'vc just come from there, you know." 

And now to business, my crowd of thinkers, 
bicyclers, and lesson-missers ; we have had enough 
of speculation and fancy. Let us take up some 
good live subject. Ah, I have it ! 


Up among the cold white peaks of the Andes, 
higher than human foot has had the daring to 
tread, is sometimes seen a dark speck, slowly 
circling in the clear air. The speck gradually de- 
scends, and we see that it is the largest bird of the 
air. the condor. Its flight is swifter than the eagle's. 
Nothing but the distance could have made the 
condor of the Andes seem small and slow of wing. 
Swiftly descending, strong, cruel, hungry, he fas- 
tens his horrid eye upon some luckless lamb or 
kid. Rarely is it able to escape or hide from its 
enemy ; successful resistance is impossible. The 
condor cannot carry off its prey in its talons like 
the eagle, for it has not the eagle's power of grasp, 
and the sharpness of its claws is in time worn off 
on the hard rocks which are its home ; so, stand- 
ing upon the struggling animal with one foot, the 
condor kills the poor thing with his powerful beak 
and his other foot. 

Like many other greedy creatures, the condorafter 
his dinner becomes incapable of flight, and it is only 
then that he can be approached with safety; but 
even now the hunter must be cautious and strong. 
A Chilian miner, who was celebrated for his 
great physical strength, once tliought that without 
weapons he could capture a condor which seemed 
unusually stupid after its heavy meal. The man 
put forth all his strength, and the engagement 
was long and desperate, till at last the poor miner 
was glad to escape with his life. Exhausted, torn, 
and bleeding, he managed to carry off a few fea- 
thers as trophies of the hardest battle he had ever 



fought. He thought that he had left the bird mor- 
tally wounded. The other miners went in search 
of the body, but instead found the bird alive and 
erect, flapping his wings for flight. 

If the condor does not reach an untimely end by 
violence, it is. according to all accounts, very long- 
lived. The Indians of the Andes believe that he 
lives for a hundred years. 

The condors' homes seem just suited for birds 
so ugly and fierce. They build no nest, but the 
female selects some hollow in the barren rock that 
shall be large enough tn shelter her from the strong 
winds while she is hatching her eggs. Here, in the 
midst of a dreadful desolation, the ugly little con- 
dors begin their cries for food, and after they are 
SIX weeks old begin attempting to use their wings. 
The parents manifest the only good trait they 
possess, in their care for their young, feeding and 
training them to fly, so that in a few months 
they are able to hunt for 
themselves after the grim 
fashion of their elders. 


Df..\r Jack-in-the-Pulpit : 
Looking through my sketch- 
book, a few days ago, I came 
across this sketch which I 
made while in London, es- 
pecially for you. It represents 
the remains of a square post 
of a door of a government of- 
fice at Jamestown, St. Helena, 
and it was presented to the 
Museum of Natural History 
in London, as a specimen of 
^.f^! carving — if I may call it carv- 

ing. — by the artist White .Ant. 
Nothing is left of what was 
once a heavy wooden 
support, but the 
solid hard 



with its string-like pieces of tougher fiber hanging from 
the branches like moss from southern trees. On closely 
inspecting this skeleton. 1 observed that every part of it 
had been most beautifully grooved ; not an inch of space 
hut what had been worked upon. The grooves, which 
followed the grain of the wooil, were many hundreds in 
number, and so wonderful was the workmanship that I 
could hardly convince myself I was not looking at a 
work of decoration instead of destruction. The tools used 
were the little ant's jaws, but the furrows were as smooth 
and as clean-cut as if they had been chiseled with a sharp 
steel gouge. 

You may ask how it is these little destroyers are 
allowed to do such damaging work, and why they are 
not driven away as soon as they appear. Let me tell 
you, the white ant is a sly little workman. In working, 
it avoids piercing the outer surface of the woodwork, and 
hence the wood appears sound, even when the slightest 
touch is sufficient to cause it to fall to pieces. 

Just imagine how uncomfortable it must be to live in 
a house where the door post may suddenly fall into pow- 
der, or, on attempting to seat yourself in a chair which 
has not been used for some time, to have that fall into 
pieces ! It would certainly seem as if mischievous fairies 
were with us once more, and in no way improved in 
their " tricks and manners." 

Evidently these little ant-fairies have quite a varied 
taste, for they are not always content with a wood diet. 
In the same case with the post I have shown you, is 
a piece of sheet lead which has furnished them with a 
few dinners. I send you a sketch of this also. 

Meredith Nugent. 

the blue sky. 

By way of opening this subject, I may as 
well tell you that there is n't, actually, any such 
place as the blue sky. In fact, the sky is all moon- 
shine — or perhaps I should say all mists and sun- 
shine. It is nothing but air. about fifty miles high, 
or deep, whichever you please, and beyond that it 
is vacancy, and is nowhere in particular even then. 
If you stand in the valley and look up into the air 
you '11 see what you call the sky ; then if you climb 
out of the valley and up to the top of the mountains, 
you '11 probably be standing in the very sky that 
you saw before, and, looking up into the air over- 
head, you '11 have another sky just as good ; and 
then if you get into a balloon and go higher yet, 
you '11 still see a sky smiling down at you, as the 
poets say. What wonder ! 1 'd smile too if I were 
a body of air fifty miles deep or high, thousands or 
millions of miles from the great heavenly bodies, and 
should find myself regarded as a sort of blue roof 
studded with little gold buttons or specks, called 
stars. Then to hear the very methodical moon 
(about 240,000 miles off) alluded to as a silver 
boat sailing in me ! — and to hear the mighty sun 
(overeighty millions of miles away from my utmost 
liinits) described as " struggling through " my 
gentle clouds ! Why. it would be enough to make 
me laugh outright, so to speak — that is supposing 
I were this so-called azure roof, which, thank 
goodness, 1 'm not, for I don't fancy dampness or 
vagueness of any sort. 

Now, my rosy philosophers, if by any accident 
you fail to understand all this, please do not bother 
me about it. Search elsewhere for information — 
ask your parents about it, or indeed any busy person 
who is sufficiently uninformed upon the subject. 


Dear St. Nicholas : It occurs to me that some of 
your young readers, especially those who have read the 
first paper on "The Land of Pluck " (in the December 
number), may be interested in hearing something of the 
little girl who has lately become Queen of Holland. 
Queen Wilhemina, as she is called, though her mother 
Emma is for the present acting as queen regent, is a 
bright, happy child of eleven years, willing to study, and, 
like other little girls, glad also to play. 

.She owns dozens of finely dressed dolls, but her favo- 
rite pets are her Shetland pony, and one hundred and 
fil'ty pet pigeons which she cares for herself. . . . 

When first told, a few months ago, that she was to be 
queen, she exclaimed in dismay : " Shall I have to sign all 
those papers as mama does?" But queenly duties will 
not be forced upon her for several years to come. . . . 

Wilhelmina gets up every morning at seven o'clock, 
antl her study hours are from nine to twelve. Then she 
has her simple noonday meal. She takes rides upon her 
pony every afternoon, no matter what the weather may 
be, and after a dinner at six, .ind a pleasant evening with 
her mother, goes to bed at eight o'clock. Her gover- 
ness is an English woman. Miss Winter. 

About $240,000 has been set apart for the little queen's 
annual household expenses. Her household comprises 
two chamberlains, four professors, an equerry, and two 
lady's maids. Besides these, she has a "military house- 
hold," whatever that may be. . . . She lives in a castle 
called " Het Loo," surrounded by meadows and very 
old trees. In the castle garden there are beds of fine 
tulips of which her father was very fond. In his study, 
now the young queen's private audience room, is a large 
collection of arms and armor displayed upon the walls. 
... In conclusion, dear St. Nicholas, let me give 
your readers an extract from a paper in the New York 
Tribune, to which I am indebted for some of the above 
points : 

" It has been said of the English Parliament that there nothing it could not do except turn a woman into a 
man. The Dutch High Court of Justice has just given 
proof of its ability to accomplish what is beyond the 
power even of the British Parliament, by deciding that 
officials and other public servants should lake the oath 
of allegiance, not to ' Queen,' but to ' King ' Wilhel- 
mina. This extraordinary decision has been violently 
attacked by the Dutch press as contrary to common 
sense, but the High Court is far too independent a body 
for there being any chance of its yielding the point. The 
States General alone could declare that even in Holland 
a queen is not a king, but it is doubtful if this is done." 
Yours truly, J. T . 

A Letter from Holland. 

Si RANGE to say, J. T's welcome letter was hardly in 
type, before another was handed us which is so interest- 
ing, and so exactly fits into this number of St. Nicholas 
that we print it almost entire. 

It came, as you see, straight from Holland, and the 
writer, a bright and patriotic Dutch girl. Is in herself the 
best evidence one can have of the advantages of education 
her country offers to all. 

It cannot but be encouraging to young Americans try- 

ing to master a foreign tongue, to see how perfectly this 
Holland maiden expresses her.self in English. Not a 
word of her beautifully written letter has been changed. 

ScHEVENlNGEN, February 28, 1891. 

My Dear L. : It is now ten years ago that we began 
our correspondence, and those ten years have had for me 
an even and uneventful course, but they have been very 
pleasant and happy years, too; I should not mind living 
them over again. The year that has gone has been very 
much like the foregoing ones except for some political 
events which have created a change in our country. f)ur 
old king died, as you probably know, and at his death 
there has been a sincere mourning over the whole coun- 
try. Personally he was not so very much liked ; he was 
good but not particularly sympathetic or clever in any 
way. Still his subjects were attached to him because he 
was — his two sons having died — the last male descen- 
dant of a glorious and highly respected race ; the House 
of Orange. The Oranges are loved by the Dutch because 
they can boast of many a valorous and wise ancestor, but 
principally because the head of the house. Prince Wil- 
liam who died in 1564, freed the people from the .Spanish 
tyrant whose despotic reign threatened to become un- 
bearable. The sole descendant of this long list of 
princes and kings is our little Queen Wilhelmina, a child 
of ten years, \ery much beloved by the people, who 
cherish this frail bud in which all their hopes are fast- 
ened, as something very precious. The government is 
now in the hands of her mother, who is queen regent 
until the little one is eighteen years old. She is a very 
superior woman, kind and wise, giving her little daugh- 
ter a sensible education, and quite capable of filling her 
difficult position and of executing her duties exceedingly 
well. Of course you, like a true .-Xmerican, do not feel 
any enthusiasm for kings and queens, but our govern- 
ment is constitutional and very liberal, and I don't think 
the people have in reality much more freedom in any of 
the new republics than in our kingdom. The two queens 
live in the Hague. As yet, of course, everything is very 
quiet at the court, but the mother and daughter can be 
seen daily when driving out, both in deep mourning, but 
looking very happy together. They pass our house 
nearly every day. I would not be a queen for anything — 
would you ? Fancy not a bit of freedom, not being able 
to move a step without the whole land, so to say, know- 
ing of it ; their sorrows and rejoicings, public sorrows and 
rejoicings ! Seemingly rulers of the land, but in reality 
dictated to in their slightest acts ! A dreadful life ! 

.\s yet all goes well in our little country, and I don't 
think we need have any fear of being swallowed up by 
the great states that surround us. 

Now, I think you have had enough of politics. 

Our winter has been, as probably everywhere else, 
exceptionally cold ; an old-fashioned winter, and one 
that will be recorded in the annals of history and not 
soon forgotten. Of course, it has been the cause of 
much poverty and misery, and every one was thankful 
when, after weeks of severe frost, the thaw fell in ; but 
much has been done to soften the sufferings of the poor, 
and those who went round to ask for help did not ask in 
vain. On the other hand, the whole country was alive 
with wholesome merriment, caused by the skating that 
was practised over the whole length and width of our 


watery little land. Holland is very characteristic and very 
much at its advantage during such a time, and 1 am really 
thankful that I have lived through such a winter, and 
also that it has come at a period of my life when I have 
been able to join in the universal movement. 

As you know, a great many of the people, especially 
the peasants, skate very well. The country is cut up by 
canals running from one tort-n to the other, and from one 
village to the other ; along these waters slow barges 
travel peacefully the whole summer through, laden with 
coals, wood, vegetables, pottery, and numberless other 
things; a great deal of traffic is done in this slow but 
sure way, as it is a very cheap mode of transport. But 
these same waters now bore a much livelier aspect. 
People of all classes skated along their smooth surfaces, 
and many have been the expeditions planned and executed 
to skate from one town to the other, halting at several 
small villages on the way, and thus seeing the country 
in an original and very pleasant manner. 

My sister and I, and several ladies and gentlemen, made 
a charming excursion on one of the finest and mildest 
days of the winter. The sun shone brightly, the sky 
was blue, and although the thermometer pointed below 
zero, it was quite warm and delicious to skaie. We 
were quite a large party, and went from the Hague to 
Amsterdam, and thence across the Y and farther over 
the inland waters to Monnickendam, on skates of course. 
Monnickendam lies at the Zuider zee, which is a kind of 
bay formed by the North Sea and surrounded by several 
provinces of our country. In comparison with your grand 
lakes, it is small, but we consider it quite a large water, 
and it is very rarely frozen over. This year, however, 
it was one immense surface of ice, stretching itself out 
as far as the eye could reach. It was quite the thing 
this winter to go out and see it ; so, of course, we went 
there and visited the small island of Marken which is 
situated near the coast. 

A small steamer goes daily from Monnickendam to 
the island, or three times a week — I 'm not sure about 
that ; now all the communication was done by sledge 
and on skates over the ice. Thousands of people have 
seen Marken this winter in that way, and the place is 
quite a curiosity, especially for strangers. (If you hap- 
pen to have a map of the Netherlands you'll be sure to 
find where it lies.) The costumes worn by the peasant 
men and women alone are well worth the voyage to the 
place, being quite different from those worn in Scheve- 
ningen, and besides the pokey little wooden houses are 
charming in their way, and exceedingly clean and neat, 
with rows of colored earthenware dishes along the walls, 
and carved chests and painted wooden bo.xes piled one 
on the top of the other containing their clothes. Al- 
though so near the civilized world these good people live 
quite apart, hardly ever marry some one not from the 
island, and seem quite contented. They earn their liv- 
ing by fishing, and occasionally get as far as a harbor of 
Scotland. When we arrived there across the ice we were 
very hungry, and on asking a peasant if he could procure 
us something to eat, were very hospitably received in his 
little house by his wife, who regaled us on bread, cheese, 
and milk. Enormous hunches of bread I but what will a 
hungry skater not eat ? And we sat very snugly in their 
little room, admiring all their funny little contrivances. 

The Zuider zee was very curious and interesting to see. 
Fancy an enormous field of ice crowded with thousands 
of people all on skates, and, moving swiftly between 
them, brightly painted sledges with strong horses and 
jingling bells, looking very picturesque. Also little ice- 
boats with large sails that come flying across tlie frozen 
waters, looking like great birds, but keeping at a little 
distance from the crowd for fear of accidents. A fair was 
held on the ice, where there were going on all kinds of 
harmless amusements, and little tents where they sold 
cakes and steaming hot milk and chocolate. The whole 


scene, the bright, moving, joyous crowd made me think 
of the pictures by the old masters, like Teniers and 
Ostade, it was so thoroughly Dutch. But to think that 
this immense solid surface, whereon you moved so confi- 
dently, would melt again before the year was much older 
and change itself in lapping waves, was hardly conceiv- 
able I 

At the Hague we have a very prettily situated skating- 
club, where our little circle of friends saw each other 
daily and where we spent many a pleasant hour. So tile 
winter has flown by. It is not quite over but it seems so 
to me, as the last weeks have been very fine, and the 
place where we live, being half country, directly takes a 
spring-like air. Tennis begins to reign supreme, and I 
am going to practise this game very seriously. 

I have not heard much music this winter. Our German 
opera whicli grew poorer and poorer every year is now 
gone altogether, and that was the only way in which we 
heard some Wagnerian operas, which I like above all 
others ; indeed, the more you hear them the less you care 
about the others. Once a fortnight I regularly go to 
the concert, but there are times when I can't listen to 
the music. My mind strays, and try as much as I will, the 
sounds pass over me and don't leave any impression ; I 
think the reason of this is that I have heard too much 
music in the last years, and that I don't appreciate it. 
So when it is not something I like very very much I had 
rather not hear it, as it only needlessly fatigues my brain, 
and I do not profit by it at all. 

Your letter was very pleasant and so fluently written. 
I wish I could do as well ; my only consolation is that it 
is not my language, but then I cannot produce such a 
good style in Dutch either, and you will hardly believe 
it, but 1 need a dictionary more when I write a Dutch 
letter than when I write an English one. Of course I 
make a great many mistakes in English, but Dutch is a 
far more difficult language, and you never know when a 
word is masculine or feminine (unless you are exceedingly 
clever ! ), as it makes no difference when you speak, but a 
great difference when you write; so if you want to write 
correctly you have to look in the dictionary or else to 
guess. Then you say, " Oh ! that word is probably fem- 
inine," and you change the sentence accordingly, and af- 
terwards you<liscover that you were quite wrong. Is not 
that a troublesome language ? The French can hear when 
to put " le " or " la " before the word, at least they rarely 
make mistakes, but we can't. It sounds all the same when 

I am always very sorry when I hear that your health 
is not all that can be desired. Do you take good care 
of yourself? and is not your mode of living too busy? 
It is certainly a great trouble to be obliged to manage 
your health. I can hardly conceive such a position, be- 
cause I can do with my health just what I like. And 
now, my dear L., it is really time to finish this long 
letter. I think I never wrote such a long one before. 

So now good-by, and let me hear soon from you again. 
Very truly yours, 

Elise Moleswater. 

An* unknown correspondent, under the signature 
" Classical Friend," calls attention to an error in the 
legend for the picture on page 392 of the March St. 
Nicholas. It should, of course, read : " The Theater of 
Dionysus" or Bacchus. Dionysius was the name of sev- 
eral distinguished men, especially of one of the tyrants 
of Syracuse. Dionysus, our correspondent says, " was 
the patron of festivity, therefore his worship was carried 
on in a theater," where an altar to liim was erected. We 
are obliged to the anonymous, but \igilant reader. 



Pear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for two years, 
off and on, as we are traveling about, and there is not 
another magazine which I t:now of that I appreciate 
as much as yours. I think your stories are lovely, and 
the only fault I find in them is, that they are much too 
short. We expected to go home to California the begin- 
nins; of this month, but were detained by my having 
the measles. We spent (that is, my sister and I) a very 
doleful Christmas, but 1 managed to eat my mince-pie 
and plum-pudding before getting ill. I have traveled ever 
since I was fourteen months old, and have been to Eng- 
land, France, Spain, Germany, passed through Holland 
(that dear little '• Land of Pluck "), and of course .Amer- 
ica. I have the dearest, cunningest canary whose name is 
" Dicky Boy." He cost twenty marks in Dresden, which 
equals five dollars. His singing master having been a 
nightingale, his voice is perfectly fascinating ! And now, 
dear St. Nicholas, I am afraid this letter has not been 
very interesting, but having to he kept indoors for a 
fortnight, one is apt to get cross .and dull. I hope you 
will think this worth while to put in your Letter-box. I 
would like to write more, but I would bother you and, 
besides, Dicky is on the table giving me a concert, so I 
must listen to him, or Signor Dickini would be offended. 
Your constant reader, EDITH P . 

The opinions some of the English have of our glori- 
ous country and its inhabitants are often very amusing 
if not provoking at times. 

I am your devoted reader, " Pkrskus." 

Ha.mii.ton, Canada. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Every month I read the letters 
in your Letter-box, but I have never yet seen one from 
Ontario, Canada. Now I am sure lots of little girls in 
Canada read St. Nicholas, and are as fond of it as I 
am, so I will write for all of them, and tell you how much 
we enjoy the lovely stories you give us. My father gave 
St. Nicholas to me for my eighth birthday, two years 
ago, and I hope I shall get it every month for a long time 
to come. I am very much interested in " Lady Jane," 
and was sorry it was so soon finished. I wish Mrs. 
Jamison would write another story just as luce. And I 
also wish Marjorie's papa would tell us something more 
about Marjorie. His rhymes were lovely, especially 
"The little boy who was turned into a bird." I love 
funny rhymes ; we often try to make Ihem ourselves. 
Now I hope you will be kind enough to print this letter, 
not because it is worth printing, but because it comes 
from Canada, where you have many constant and admir- 
ing readers like Vour liitle friend, 

.\ILEEN R . 

Three young friends who live in Kirkwood, Mo., and 
who sign their letter " We, Us, & Co.," send us a spirited 
picture which we take pleasure in printing herewith. 
They call it: 
" Going to the Post-office for St. Nicholas. " 

London, England. 

Dear St. Nicholas : You have been a great source 
of pleasure to me for many, many vears. As far back as 
1878 and 1S79, when I lived in Buffalo, N. Y., U. S. A., 
my sister took you, and almost every year since I have 
looked forward eagerly to the time of the month for you 
to appear. 

In 1S89 I left Buffalo, and have since lived in "dear 
old dingv London," as somebody has called the great 
city. Like Julia B. H., who has a letter in the January 
number, from Buffalo, I miss " Buffalo's beauty." I take 
you now, and though I am getting almost to manhood I 
enjoy you just as much as ever. 

VVf. thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from ihem: Urquhart L., Ray 
E. B., Otto F., H. S. H., E. C. P., Laura K., Frances 
A. G., Clara E. and Ruth D., George H. S., Holcombe 
W., Lutie M., George W. P. Jr., Lulu B., Gwendoline 
D., Janet and Marion, Edna N., Ellie G., Ethel L., 
" Polly," Esther D. S., Edith B., Ida H., Katie, Mar- 
guerite H., Grace IL, Helen I)., Mabel H., Ava B., 
Slaude E. F., John A. F., George S., Ada I. H., Chloe 
D., Beth L., Alice C. T., Ida M'. K., J. McD., Ben V., 
Gertrude P., James W., Oliver II. P., George S. M., 
Julie S. M., F. C. W., Herbert F., Lois L., Margaret 
H. D., Harold F., Ruth McN., Will B. S., Elden P., 
Nellie E. T., Rex, -Anna and Ring, Doris and Dorothy 
D., E. W. Van S., Percy G. W., John M. F., Florence 
N., Anna and Eric K., Geo. I.. R., Bijou, C. L. R., 
Ethel H. B.,Marv Constance DuB., H. L. Mc, Florence 
S., Wren W., Alice G. H., Anna M., Annie E. .M., Gladys 
I. M., Flossie B. B., Merguerile W., Helen B. F., Louis 
Victor M., Florence E. B., Esther R., C. NL P., Marion 
I., .Alma E. R., Kailuarine L. McC, George W. H., 
Sarah and .Susie B., Harry B., J. C. C, .-Vlgenia T. G., 
Irma A. AL, Emilie .M., Leonora S. iM., Charles M., 
Rachelle G. IL, Stella H., Rebecca A. B., Fleta B , Dot 
and Tot, Marietta B. H., Sarah L. P., Mamie L. C. 
Alida A. and Ethel J., Kiltv and Nelly, Josephine W. B., 
Addie W. E., Mary M., Estelle I., .Alice M. P., Mary C. 
and Beth T., Hubert L. B.. Margaret and Marion, .Anne 
Russell A., Annie B. R., Helen F., Mae W., E. A. C, 
Jeannie E. and Bettie \'., "Jack," Lucilla H., Holmes 
R., Nellie L. D. 


Primal Acrostic. Shakes^peare. Cross-words : i. Shylock. 

2. Hamlet. 3. Ariel. 4. King Lear. 5. Escalus. 6. Sebastian. 
7. Pericles. 8. Egeus. 9. Antony. 10. Romeo. 11. Eglamour. 

Pi. By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 

Their flag to April's bieeze unfurled, 
Here once the embattled farmers stood, 
And fired the shot heard round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept : 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; 
And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 

Rhomboids. Thumb-stall. I. Across : i. 

3. Ensue. 4. Delay. 5. Tetes. II. Across 
3. Matin. 4. Runes. 5. Seton. 

Word-squares, i. Cart. 2. Area. 3. 
A Phntacon. I. M. 2. Led. 3. Later. 
6. Rites. 7. Cess. 

Real. 4. Tale. 

4. Metonic. 5. Denote. 

acknowledged in the magazine, 
Riddle-box," care of The Cen 

To ofR Pt'zzLERS: Answers, tc 
should be addressed to St. Nichol. 

Answers to all the Puzzles 
M. G.— Maud E. Palmer- Clara B. Orwig — Paul Reese— Aunt K 

"Adirondack"— J A. F. and J " " 

Blanke and " Tiddledywink: 

WoRD-BuiLDiNG. O, fo, sot, host, sHote, Stheno, hornets, shortens. 

Beheadincs. Sir John Franklin. Cros.s-words : i. S-crawl. 
2. I-deal. 3. R-ye. 4. J-ounce. 5. O-range. 6. H-arbor. 7. N-umber. 
8. F-ray. 9. R-ace. 10. A-tom. 11. N-opal. 12. K-it. 13. I^mk. 
14. I-rate. 15. N-ode. 

Double Acrostic. Primals, United ; finals, Stales. Cross-words : 
I. Unisonous. 2 Negligent. 3. Infusoria. 4. Termagant. 5. Elab- 
orate. 6. Decanters. 

A Cross Puzzle. Centrals, Feast of Flowers. Cross-words : 

I. Rufus. 2. Preen. 3. Glare. 4. R 
6. Camelopards, 7. Rifts. 8. Lifts 

II. Bower. 12. Creed. 13. Samarita 
Double Diagonals. Diagonals, Fi 

Little Lord Fauntleroy. Cross-wotds : 1 

sale. 4. Linnets. 5. Lackeys. 6. Seventy. 7. Solvent. 

Cross-word Enigma. San Jacinto. 

Numerical Enigma. "Words are 
but reckon by thein : but they are the money of fool; 


5. Magistratic. 

Helot. 10. Crown. 

. Christian. 

Burnett : from i to 20. 

Bailiff. 2. .■\uthors. 3. Dor- 

they do 

St be received not later than the 15th of each n 
t' Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City, 
ived. before February 15th, from "The Wise Five" — E. 
a and Limie — .M. Josephine Sherwood — " The McG. 's "— 
L. W. L.— Agnes and Elinor— Peari F. Stevens— "Arcadia "—" Infantry "—AHce M. 
Hubert L. Bingay— May — " We Two"— Jo and I — Nellie L. Howes — Adele 

cle Mung — "Mr. Toots" 

Walton — "Bud"— Papa and I — Ida and Alice— Helen C. McClea^- — " 1 he T. Q. Musical Coterie "- 
Edith Sewall — Nellie ar.d Reggie — Camp— Ida C. Thallon —" Charles BeauforL" 

Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received, before February 15th, from " Nifesca," 3 — L. Starr, i — R. W. 
G. and M. F,. G., 2 — Ea M. G., 1— "Reynard," 4 — Elaine Shirley, 5— R. T. Miunt, i — F. O. D., i — Florence Osborne i — 
E. C. and C. W. Chambers, 2 — Mabel H. S., i — Mary .McKittrick, i — D. N. S. B.. i — "Miss Araminta," 4— Leonard Dashiell, 2 — 
Katie M. W, 10 — Fred. Willie, and Algar Bourn, i — " Lady Malapert," i — Mary H. Clark, i — .Aunt Anna and Lillie, 3 — 
Clare D., i— Robert A. Stewart. 8 — John and Bessie G., 4— Violette, 4 — Effie K. Talboys, 6— Alice Falvey, i — Ed and Papa, 10 
— Madge and Jennie, 4 — Leander S. Keyser, i — Frank C. Lincoln, 10 — Gretta F. and Florence O., i — Averill, i — Carita, 3 — Florence 
Oppenheimer, i — George B. Keeler, i — " H. Ercules," i — Mamma and Thurston, 2 — M. A. R. i — R. Lee Randolph, 3 — Virginia 
Mercer, i — Couper and Abbie, i — "King Anso IV.," 9 — Minna, 2 — Charlie Dignan, 10 — Carrie Thacher, 7^Catherire Bell, i — 
Caiman, 10 — Nellie Smith. 2 — H. MacDougall, i — Estelle. Clarendon, and C. Ions, 4— Ellen " Merenos," i— S. B. C. and A. R. T., 
4 — Grace and Nan, g — Bemidene J. Butler, 7 — Geoffrey Parsons, 5 — "Three Generations," 6 — "Thor and Hottentot," 2— "Nanne 
Cat," I — "Cele and I," 3 — Hetty J. Barrow, 3 — " Si.\, and Two Dictionaries," 6 — George Seymour, 9— Nellie Aicher, 3 — " We, 
Us. and Co.," 6 — Clara and Emma, 7 — "May and 79," 7 — "Polly Bob," 3 — "Snooks," 3— Beth and Leslie, 3 — Nellie anti 
Edith Perkins, 1 — Maurice C. Zinn, i — Laura M. Zinser, 4 — Geo. A. Miller, Jr , 3 —" The Scott Family," 10— No Name, San Fran- 
cisco, 6— "The Nutshell." 5 — Rsymonde Robson, 2 — Edith J. Sanford, 7—" We, Us, and Company," 9— C. E. M. and M. L. M.,5 — 
Raymond Baldwin, i — Maricia V., 2 — Bertha W. Groesbeck, 5— " Benedick and Beatrice," s— Ruth A. Hobby, 2— Sissie Hunter, 2 — 
C. and C. A. Southwick, 7 — Alex. Armstrong, Jr., 7 — " Tivoli Gang," 7 — Mabel and Auntie, 2. 


•,^<^ • IK if 

•"'v'iT^ I. In lackey. 2. The queen of the 
* fairies. 3. The root of a Mexican 

plant. 4. A Latin word meaning sub- 
stance. 5. The ancient name for Scot- 
land. 6. .-\ii English title. 7. Lan- 
guishes. S. .\ small island. 9. In lackey. "XELIS." 


Of letters six consists the word : 

A famous doubter was my first, we 've heard ; 

Desnairest not, my second says ; 

My i/iird to rest the sleepless lays ; 

'Sly fourt/i describes a portion slight; 

yiy fijllt, pertaining to the stars of night ; 

The plural of a metal hard 

My sixlk — \vill not your work retard. 

My primals and finals each name a poet ; one is the 
author of " Rimini," the other of" Endymion." 

Cross-words (of equal length): i. A prison. 2. .-V 
musical instrument. 3. \ prefix signifying half. 4. .V 
large package or bale of cloves. 5. The sur- 
name of the German physician and scientist who dis- 

covered the cholera-bacillus. 6. .\ distributive adjective 
pronoun. 7. The first word in a famous little poem by 
the author of " Rimini." 8. .Attenuated. 9. Closed. 

N. w. H. 

Cross-words : i. In monument. 2. Congregated. 
3. A fruit. 4. A figure of speech. 5. A portico. 6. To 
wink. 7. To wish for earnestly. 8. Made into bundles. 
9. .Ancient. 10. Inclosed with palisades. 11. Sportive. 

The central letters (indicated by stars) will spell a 
holiday. "SOLOMON (JUILL." 




I AM composed of sev- 
enty-one letters, and am 
a quotation from Shak- 

My 18-60-48 is part of 
the foot. My 40-51-44- 
to sow. My 42-25- 
8-71 is belonging to me. 
My 57-3-16-20 is a biblical 
name. My 33-5S-29-62-5 is to 
redden suddenly. My 27-12-22- 
9 is to incite. My 30-64-1-36 is 
a canoe or small boat. My 46- 
55-53-39-32-6 is obscurity. My 
50- 1 4-7- 1 7-24- 1 1 is a buckler. 
Is the god of eloquence among the 
ancient Egyptians. My 13-35-59-41-65-38 is the father 
of Jupiter. My 2i-49_4-6i-26was the national god of the 
Philistines. My 28-45-15-63-43-56 is the first person 
in the trinity of the Hindoos. My 69-54-47-37-10 is a 
figure often shown, bearing a globe. My 34-67-23-31 
is the god of war. M. D. 


1. A VOWEL. 2. Twelve ounces. 3. Salt. 4. Final. 
5. Fables. 6. Attendants on a gentleman. 7. Per- 
taining to the summer. 8. A carousal. 


My 66-52-2-70-19 ' 

6 to 14,; from 7 to i 5, a 
Shaksperean character ; from 8 to 16, 
enormous in size or strength. 

Perimeter of wheel (from i to 8), a Ger- 
man musical composer ; hub of wheel (from 
9 to 16), an American statesman. 



Lal bauto het finnogtes rai 

Fo wen-bron nesteswes seltl ; 
Dan elit hungratede yamfrowsel ware 

Het sintt fo canoe sleshl. 
Eht Ido, runisgas cramlie 

Si shref sa ferotheroe ; 
Nad thare steak pu sit apebral 

Fo file rofm thade cone rome. 


I. Wastes by friction. 2. A musical instrument. 
3. Unmatched. 4. In hour-glass. 5. A German musical 
composer. 6. Concussion. 7. Loose gravel on shores 
and coasts. 

The central letters, reading downward, will spell the 
surname of a naturalist born in May. 




From i to 9. a tardigrade edentate mammal found in 

South America; from 2 to 10, a venomous reptile ; from 

3 to II, a masculine name; from 4 to 12, an iLalian 

author who died in 1856; from 5 to 13, a tumult ; from 

Rhomboid. Across: i. Wise men. 2. A title of 
respect. 3. Contented. 4. An opaque substance. 5. To 
prevent. Downward : i. In shred. 2. A verb. 3. An 
aeriform fluid. 4. A small island on the northern coast 
of Java. 5. Glutted. 6. To measure. 7. A small, flat 
fish. 8. An exclamation. 9. In shred. 

Included Diamond, i. In shred. 2. To obstruct. 

3. Contented. 4. Converged. 5. In shred. 

Each of the words described contain four letters. 
When rightly guessed and placed one below the other, 
in the order here given, the zigzags, from the upper 
left-hand corner to the lower right-hand corner, will 
spell the name of a battle fought in May, less than fifty 
years ago. 

I. To stufi'. 2. Part of the face. 3. A kind of nail. 

4. The proper coat of the seed of wheat. 5. One of a 
tribe of Scythians, or Germans, who settled in .Scotland. 
6. .\n exploit. 7. A swimming and diving bird. 8. A 
knid of earth. 9. A stratagem. 10. A cicatrix. II. 
Enormous. 12. To declare openly. 13. A species of 
goat. 14. A blemish. 15 To double. 16. The chief 
magistrate in Venice. 


I THINK she Kas {alW asleep in the j-Kad 

}K. sKe'i tne loveii^:;ji' ini'e maidl; 
rvd Ker/atner 5 ourj'amijy baKer. 


Vol. XVIII. 

JUNE. 1891. 

Copyright, 1891, by The Centlry Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 8. 

S^Mttle Lover: 



I THINK she has fallen asleep in the shade. 

(Sing low, sing low — you '11 awake her. 
Oh, she 's the loveliest little maid ; 

And her father 's our family baker. 

Such beautiful buns and chocolate-cakes ! 

(Sing low, very low — you '11 alarm her.] 
And oh. such elegant tarts he makes ! 

And his name is Joshua Farmer. 

And her sweet name is Elinor Jane, 
And her step is as light as a feather; 

And we meet every day in the lilac lane. 
And we go to our school together. 



And now and then she brings me a bun. 

(Sing low, or she 'II hear what we 're saj-ing.) 
And after school, when our tasks are done, 

In the meadows we 're fond of straying. 

And I make her a wreath of cowslips there, 
As we sit in the blossoming clover. 

And then .she binds it around her hair, 
.\nd twines it over and over. 

She 's ten ; I 'm six ; but I am as tall 

As she is, I guess, or nearly. 
And I cannot say that I care for her doll ; 

But, oh, I do love her dearly ! 

We were tired of playing at king and queen. 

(Sing low, for we must not awake her.) 
And she fell asleep in the grass so green ; 

And I thought that I would n't forsake her. 

And when I am grown to a big tall man, 
I mean to be smart and clever ; 

And then I will marry her if I can, 
And we 'II live upon tarts forever. 


By J. T. Trowbridge. 

[Be£uri in tkf November number.^ 

Chapter XXX. 


The boat was stranded in the shade of a 
large maple ; and the two friends walked over 
a gently rolling field that sloped up from the 
level of the lake. 

" It seems to me you ought to find a buyer for 
so handsome a piece of land as this ! " said Mr. 
Allerton, watching a timid flock of sheep that 
stood gazing at them, ready to turn and flee. 
"It would make a beautiful little farm." 

" Within ten miles of here," Toby replied, 
" there are at least ten abandoned farms, that 
can be had for less than the money they have 
been mortgaged for. Some of them have good 
buildings on them ; but the owners could n't 
compete with western farmers in raising grain, 
or even in making butter and cheese. Some 
of them have died, and others have gone to 
seek their fortunes elsewhere." 

" That is a sad state of things," said Mr. Al- 
lerton. " It seems to me it ought to be reme- 
died. In places where there are summer boarders, 
garden vegetables and fresh milk are sure to be 
in demand. And as for a place like this," — he 
turned to get a view of the lake, — " what a 
noble site for a fine summer residence ! " 

" Perhaps we may sell it for that some time, 
if we can aflford to keep it long enough," said 
Toby. " Look at those sheep ! I am sure the 
boys have been frightening them. They will 
generally run to me, expecting salt." 

" It is the guns that alarm them," suggested 
the schoolmaster, as he followed his companion 
along a path that led up through a bushy ra- 
vine. " The swallows, too, act as if they had 
been disturbed." 

Toby hastened forward anxiously. There was 
a smell of smoke in the air, and the report of a 
gun sounded close at hand, just over the crest 
of a green knoll. The top of the hollow chest- 

nut was already visible, and they could see the 
small black bodies and darting wings of the 
swallows that were circling about it in great 

" I never saw such a sight ! " e.xclaimed the 
schoolmaster, while Toby quickly mounted the 
crest, threw up his arms with an excited gesture, 
and uttered a fierce shout : 

" What are you doing here ? " 

Yellow Jacket had not given up his search for 
Tom's rifle ; but thinking they might see it bet- 
ter after the reflection of the sunlight had disap- 
peared from the surface of the water, he had 
proposed to his companions to go off and wait 
an hour. In the mean time they were having a 
little fun ashore. 

The cavity of the chestnut extended all 
the way down the trunk to an opening at its 
roots. This might have been large enough for 
a slim boy to crawl into ; and if Butter Ball had 
been slim his companions would certainly have 
forced him to attempt that difficult feat, in order 
" to see what was to be seen," by looking up 
through the inhabited hollow. 

Then a dispute had arisen as to whether 
these were true chimney -swallows ; and whether 
chimney-swallows objected to smoke. Tom and 
Yellow Jacket maintained that they did n't ; 
while Lick Stevens declared that they never 
built their nests in chimneys used for fires in 
summer. Butter Ball remained neutral ; and it 
was he who had the credit of suggesting a set- 
tlement of the question, by kindling a fire in the 
hole at the base of the tree. 

" Oh, I would n't bother the birds that way ! " 
said Yellow Jacket. 

" But, according to your own argument, it 
won't bother 'em ; they '11 rather like a little 
smoke," Lick replied. " Run, Butter Ball, and 
bring sticks and brush and dry leaves from the 
ravine ! " 

Butter Ball obeyed. Tom had some matches. 



It may here be said that he also had cigarettes. 
Since his father refused to give him again the 
twenty dollars he had once received and lost, 
he felt himself justified in breaking the promise 
he had made, to leave off smoking. 

He lighted his cigarette. Lick lighted the fire. 
Then, while it was kindling, both amused them- 
selves by shooting at the swallows on the wing. 

The smoke created a great commotion among 
the birds, both outside and within the hollow- 
tree. Butter Ball was stuffing more rubbish into 
the opening, and Tom was on the point of shoot- 
ing into the flock of swallows over their heads, 
when Toby made his appearance on the scene, 
followed immediately by Mr. Allerton coming 
up over the knoll. 

At the sound of Toby's voice, at the sight of 
his threatening gesture and angry face, Tom 
lowered his gun and stared. 

" I never saw such a set of cowards! " 

With this wrathful exclamation, Toby rushed 
in, and began to pull the burning rubbish away 
from the aperture. The sound of young birds 
fluttering, and peeping, and dropping down 
within the hollow trunk to the ground or into 
the fire, redoubled his fury. 

Mr. Allerton hastened to his assistance, ex- 
claiming : 

" Boys ! what are you thinking of, to make 
war upon these harmless birds ? I would not 
have believed it of you, Patterson ! " 

Yellow Jacket sulked ; and both Tom and 
Butter Ball were too much surprised to make 
any reply. But Lick Stevens remained cool, 
with a polite smile on his sarcastic lips, and a 
sparkle of malice in his eyes, as he answered : 

" We are not harming the birds, sir. You 
can't hit one on the wing, if you try a week. 
And they like smoke. So the boys say." 

" Like it 1 " Toby exclaimed. " It is driving 
the young ones out of their nests, and you can 
hear them falling — here is one now ! " 

And he snatched the poor little thing out of 
the fire. 

" Oh, that is too cruel ! " said the schoolmas- 
ter, in pitiful accents. 

" I did n't know it would do that," Tom mut- 
tered, with mingled resentment and mortification. 

" You might have known it, if you had n't 
been worse than a — " 

Toby's furious speech was in full career when 
Mr. Allerton stopped him. 

"Don't call hard names, Tobias; they will 
not right any wrongs." 

" But look at that ! " And Toby, full of ire 
and grief, held out in the hollow of his hand 
the scorched and sufiering bird. " And there 
are more of them ! " 

He raked aw^ay the fire with the end of a 
partly burnt branch, and took out two more 
half-fledged swallows. Tom offered to help 
him, but was rudely pushed aside. Mr. Aller- 
ton secured the birds, while Toby looked for 
more and tried to extinguish the fire. 

" I guess it 's about time for us to get out of 
this," said Lick Stevens, cool as ever; " it almost 
seems as if we were not wanted here, as the 
tax-collector said when he got kicked down 

" You are not wanted here ; and I '11 thank 
you never to come near this tree nor set foot 
on this lot again. I mean every one of you ! " 
cried Toby, as the intruders went off together. 

" I am sorry you were so violent with them," 
said Mr. Allerton, " though I can hardly blame 
you. It was certainly an exasperating act. 
But even when you are in the right it is n't 
best to be too severe. Nobody ever gains 
anything by losing his temper." 

" I know it. But I could n't help it ! " replied 
Toby. " There are more birds in there now — 
if I could only get at them. I hope the fire 
has n't reached them. But they will be sure to 
starve to death." 

Mr. Allerton remarked that the fire had 
attacked the tree itself, and would be sure to 
eat into the dry shell, if every spark was n't 
extinguished. " I should think we might get 
water in the little ravine yonder ; I noticed a 
wet place as we came by," he added, pointing 
toward the lake. 

" Yes ; and there is the lake-full, just as there 
was when I wanted to put out that other fire ! " 
said Toby. " I have a bailer in my boat. It 
won't take five minutes to fetch it." 

" Don't have any words with those boys, if 
you fall in with them," the teacher warned him, 
as he was starting off. 

" I '11 try not to," replied Toby. 

He saw nothing of the marauders, who had 



not returned to their boat ; and having hastily 
dipped up his bailer-full of lake water, he set 
out to carry it back up the hill. But the bailer — 
an old tin basin — was rusty, and he had not 
gone far before he perceived that the water was 
fast escaping through three or four holes. He 
tried to stop them with his fingers, and ran as 
fast as he could ; but, by the time he reached 
the tree of the swallows, the basin was nearly 

" I am sure you can get some here in the 
ravine," Mr. Allerton said, and went himself to 
scoop out a hollow place, which was soon filled 
with dirty water. " There seems to be a spring 
here ; and I 've no doubt we should find it very 
good water, if we gave it time to settle." 

" It is good enough for our purpose, as it is," 
said Toby, filling his basin and running with it 
to the tree. 

Chapter XXXI. 


The fire was quickly extinguished ; and then 
there seemed nothing else to do but to put out 
of their misery the poor litde fledglings that 
had suffered from it. 

It made Toby's heart bleed to do this. Nor 
could he cease to express his wonder and in- 
dignation at what he called the " inhuman 

" It was bad enough, certainly," said Mr. 
.Allerton ; " but I am inclined to call it thought- 
less rather than inhuman. Patterson, I am sure, 
would n't willingly have caused these innocent 
little creatures to suffer. I am especially sorry 
for what has occurred, on his account. He is 
extremely sensitive ; and I am afraid we may 
lose our hold upon him. You forgot to speak 
of finding the gun." 

" Yes, I forgot everything but the mean and 
cowardly business Ave caught them at," said 
Toby. " Even if I had remembered, I would n't 
have mentioned it. I would have taken the gun 
Tom had in his hands, and thrown it into the 
middle of the lake, if I could. Such fellows 
ought never to have a gun. I have thought so 
much of the swallows in this old tree." 

"The smoke is getting out of it, and they 
are quieter now," said Mr. .\llerton. " I don't 

think many young ones have hopped out of their 
nests. Can we do better than to leave the well 
ones where they are ? The parent birds may 
possibly find them." 

" I 've a good mind to take these two home 
to Milly," said Toby. " If anybody can nurse 
them and keep them alive, she can. She has a 
great fondness for such pets. She had a young 
swallow once." 

Mr. Allerton approved the suggestion, and, 
making a nest of his handkerchief, he carried 
the two helpless, half naked, ungainly little crea- 
tures to the boat. He and Toby never knew 
how many more were left to their fate, in the 
cavity where they had fallen, nor what became 
of them. 

Half an hour later, Tom and his friends 
returned from an excursion they had made far- 
ther over the hill ; sending Butter Ball ahead, 
" to see if the coast was clear," in the vicinity 
of the hollow tree. 

The scout reporting that Mr. Allerton and 
Toby were gone, he was once more sent for- 
ward to look out for them, while the others 
stopped at the scene of their recent exploit. 

It was mere curiosity, however, that moved 
them, and not a desire to indulge in any more 
sport at the expense of the swallows. 

They saw that the fire was out, and looked 
rather ruefully at the dead swallows whose de- 
struction they had caused ; only Lick Stevens 
seeming to consider it a time to joke. 

" You see, boys," he said, " I was right about 
their not liking smoke. There 's only one biped 
that does like it ; and he makes a chimney of 
himself — like you, Tom." 

The spring Mr. Allerton and Toby had opened 
in the side of the ravine attracted Tom's atten- 
tion as they passed it. The water, which had had 
time to clarify itself, was bright and sparkling. 

Tom stooped to take up some in the hollow 
of his hand. Yellow Jacket got down on his 
knees, to drink directly from the spring. Lick 
made a movement with his uplifted foot as if 
to push the kneeler's face down into the water, 
when he was startled by a simultaneous exclama- 
tion from his two comjjanions. 

" What is it ? " he asked, as both appeared to 
be gazing into the bottom of the brimming 
hollow. " .\ gold mine ? " 


Tom rose to his feet, looking very much ex- 
cited. Lick, too, with all his coolness, betrayed 
a lively interest as they discussed the nature of 


the discovery. Yellow Jacket sat down on the 
grass and laughed. 

" It 's on Mrs. Traftbrd's lot," he said, wi])ing 

his dripping nose, and once more gazing into 
the ])ool. 

" For that reason," cried Tom, " don't either 
of you breathe a word 
of it to a living soul ! 
After Toby's treatment 
of us to-day, I would n't 
have him know for any- 
thing. I 'm glad Butter 
Ball is n't here ; three 
are better than four to 
keep such a secret as 
this. Promise, boys, 
never to tell ! " 

" You won't catch 
me telling anything that 
will do him any good," 
said Lick Stevens, with 
a malicious grin. " But 
maybe he has found it 
out for himself." 

" I don't believe so," 
Tom replied. "He just 
scooped up the muddy- 
water to get some to put 
out the fire ; and he 
could n't have discov- 
ered the gold mine, as 
you call it, without wait- 
ing a while. I '11 make 
it worth something to 
both of you, if you '11 
keep mum. You will, 
Vellow Jacket ? " 

" It 's nothing I shall 
t;o blabbing about," 
Yellow Jacket replied. 

" So now," cried Tom, 
elated, " let 's fill up 
the hole and cover it 
with brush ! " 

Ch.\pter XXXII. 


Meanwhile, Mr. 
AUerton had made the 

UTTERED A FIERCE SHOl'T." , r ,f U-^.,* 

purchase of the boat 
at the Sjirings, and was returning down the lake 
with it, in the wake of the Milly. As there 
was no wind, the sail had been furled by wrap- 


ping it tightly around the mast, and was laid 
in the bow ; the new owner pulled a pair of 
light spruce oars. 

" As it has no name," said he, talking from 
one boat to the other, " I am going to call it 
the ' Swallow,' in memory of this afternoon's 
adventure. It rows almost as easily as your 
boat, though built for carrying a sail. 1 am 
really dehghted with it ! " 

" There 's Yellow Jacket's boat on the shore, 
where we left it," said Toby. " Those fellows 
are still up on the hill somewhere. Do you 
believe they will meddle with the swallows 
again ? " 

" I hardly think so," Mr. AUerton replied. 
Then in a little while he asked, " What will 
you do about that gun ? " 

" I don't know ; I 'm going to have up my 
rowlock, anyway," said Toby. 

" I think we can get the rifle," said Mr. 

Projecting from the bow, with the end of 
the mast, was a bamboo fishing-pole that had 
happened to be in the boat at the time of the 
purchase. The former owner had given the pole 
to Toby. With this Mr. Allerton thought the 
rifle might be " fished up." 

Arrived on the spot, however, they met with 
unexpected difficulties. The floating cork was 
there; but the sun no longer shone into that 
part of the lake, and even after the water had 
become tranquil the gun was nowhere to be 
seen. Only a faint glimmer at the bottom 
showed the place of the sunken rowlock. From 
that the position of the rifle had to be guessed. 

" It is a doubtful experiment," said the school- 
master ; " but there will be no harm in trying it. 
After the hard names you called Tom and his 
friends, I am all the more anxious you should 
recover the gun for him." 

He had already got into Toby's boat, and 
the end of the line attached to the cork had 
been made fast to the fishing-pole. 

" Now, if you will hold the boat in place, 
Tobias, I '11 see what I can do, working without 

He thrust the end of the pole, with the line, 
down into the lake, until he felt that it touched 
bottom. Then he raised it a few inches, and 
began to move it in a wide circle, in the hope 


of carrying the line around the gun. This, it 
will be remembered, had been found sticking in 
the mud, with the butt-end upwards. 

It was only now and then that he caught 
glimpses of the rowlock, through the water 
which his movements troubled. But he was 
soon able to determine the position of the gun, 
from the revolutions the pole, with its radius 
of string, made around it. 

" It is getting wound up on something," he 
said. " Tobias, I think we shall succeed ! " 

Though lukewarm as to domg Tom " a good 
turn," Toby was keenly interested in the result 
of the experiment, which exhibited the master's 
ingenuity and skill. And when, after the line 
was entirely wound up, Mr. Allerton began to 
draw upon it gently, the boy watched as eagerly 
as if the rifle to be restored had been his own. 

" It has settled deeper in the soft mud than 
I had thought possible," said the schoolmaster. 
•' Something is giving way, though ' " 

Was the Ime tightening around the gun, or 
slipping over the butt ? He took a few more 
turns to wind up the slack, then slowly and 
firmly lifted on the pole. Up it came perpen- 
dicularly ; followed by another and clumsier 
object, in a tangle of string. 

It was the gun, which Toby made haste to 
seize and lift over the rail into the boat, with 
exclamations of delight. 

The rowlock also came up, dangling at the 
end of the line. 

" That was the bait we caught the fish with ! " 
laughed Toby. " A gun will sometimes snap, 
but I never got a bite from one before ! Oh, 
is n't it a joke on Tom and Yellow Jacket 1 " 

" How so ? " 

" To think of their trying for two hours to do 
what we have done almost without trying ! It 
is n't the first time Yellow Jacket has looked 
for it, either. And he is such a brag ! " 

" We '11 be careful not to brag of what we 
have done," replied Mr. Allerton. " Did you 
ever consider how a little boasting sometimes 
spoils a good deed ? " 

" Yes ! " said Toby ; " for I have heard Yel- 
low Jacket tell about the persons he has saved, 
until I have almost wished he had let 'em 

The line, which was found looped and. twisted 


around the lock and stock of the rifle, and caught 
on the hammer, was uncoiled by the school- 
master, and wound up again on the cork by 
Toby. The gun was washed by dashing it into 
the clear water of the lake, and carefully wiped 
with the boat sponge. Then the " Milly " was 
pulled to Toby's wharf, with the " Swallow " 
in tow. 

" Now, what are we going to do with it ? " 
Toby asked, after making the boats fast, as he 
stood on the wharf with the rifle in his hands. 

" I will leave it at Mr. Tazwell's house, on 
my way home," said Mr. Allerton. " I '11 take 
these young birds to your sister first." 

Mildred, who came to the door at Toby's call, 
looked into the folded handkerchief which the 
schoolmaster held out to her, and uttered an 
e.xclamation of surprise and dismay. 

" For me ! Oh, Toby, how could you think of 
such a thing ? The poor, forlorn little midgets ! " 

" He says that you had one once," Mr. Aller- 
ton e.xplained, " and that you are fond of pets." 

" Fond of pets ! " she repeated, drawing back, 
with glistening eyes, and a smile of tender mirth- 
fulness. " So I am, so very fond of them that 
I can't bear to see them pine away and die, as 
my dear little swallow did, spite of all I could 
do. Besides, did you imagine, Toby, I had 
nothing else to do but to catch flies and devote 
my days and nights to trying to keep these 
helpless orphans alive ? But I will take them, 
Mr. Allerton, if you wish it." 

" No ; I see it will be too much of a trial for 
you, after your other unfortunate experiment," 
said the schoolmaster. " I will try what I can 
do with them myself." 

" Let me keep one of them," she said, giving 
another look at the half-fledged things in his 
hand — a pitying, yearning look. " Oh, yes ! 
one ! And we '11 see which has the best suc- 

" You can make a bet on it, and let me hold 
the stakes," said Toby. " I hope it will be 
candy ! I '11 make a swallow of that ! " 

Mr. Allerton laughed, hesitated, and tinally 
said : 

" Would n't it be too bad to separate them ? 
They will probably do better if kept together." 

" Then give me both I " said Mildred. 

Thinking she made the request against her 


choice and judgment, merely to relieve him of 
the birds, he would not consent ; but departed, 
carrying his handkerchief carefully in one hand 
and the gun in the other. 

It is to be feared that Toby, when he came to 
relate the afternoon's adventures to his mother 
and sister, failed to follow the master's ' advice 
in one or two particulars. He did call Tom 
and his companions some hard names ; and he 
did brag. 

To his credit, however, it must be said, that 
the bragging was mostly in favor of Mr. Aller- 
ton ; with two interested listeners, he could not 
say enough in praise of his wise and generous 

Mildred was mildly sarcastic. 

" I have no doubt that he is perfect, and knows 
everything," she said. " But now we '11 see if 
he knows enough to bring up two young swal- 
lows by hand ! " 

Chapter XXXHI. 
what became of the birds. 

Meanwhile Mr. Allerton on his way home 
stopped at Mr. Tazwell's house to leave the 
gun. Bertha, who came to the door, looked up 
at him with bright, questioning eyes. 

" Tom's rifle 1 " she exclaimed, when he told 
his errand. " Why, he has gone to hunt for it 
this afternoon." 

" So I heard," said Mr. .\llerton. " Please 
say to him that Tobias and I had the good 
fortune to recover it without much trouble ; and 
that we are very glad to return it to him." 

" He will be so much obhged to you I " said 
Bertha. " How long has it been in the water ? " 

" Not quite a week yet, I believe," said Mr. 
Allerton, standing the rifle against the door- 

" That 's true ! " she replied. " .-Xnd yet it 
seems weeks and weeks ! " 

" You went into the water with it. I under- 
stand," said the master. 

" Fortunately, I went into the water with 
something not quite so heavy as that I " she 
answered, with a laugh, " — an oar that buoyed 
me up till the boat came to our rescue." 

" Patterson was a lucky fellow that day ! " 
said Mr. .\llerton. 


" How so ? " she asked, meanwhile wonder- 
ing what was contained in the handkerchief, 
which he held so carefully. 

" Why, was n't it he who had the good fortune 
to save your life ? That 's what I heard." 

" That Patter.son ? Yellow Jacket ? " Ber- 
tha looked up, with a frown knitting her pretty 
brows. '• I have heard that storv'!" 

" Was n't your life in danger ? " 

" In danger ! I might have been burned 
alive, or drowned, two or three times over — 
if such a thing were possible — for all he could 
have done for me. Somebody did save my 
life, and set me afloat with the oar, before he 
came near me. Yellow Jacket did all he could, 
and I was thankful enough to be taken into 
his boat ; but why should people claim for him 
all the credit that belongs to somebody else ? " 

This was evidently a subject she could n't 
speak of without betraying too much feeling. 
She shrugged, bit her lips, tapped the floor with 
her small foot, and said, as she took hold of the 
gun to carry it into the house : 

"But it 's of no use! — and I ought not to 
have said anything." 

" I am glad to have heard you say so much. 
I think I understand the situation." He was 
turning to go, when he paused and said : " Since 
you may feel some curiosity in regard to what 
I have here, let me show you." 

And he uncovered the birds in his handker- 

" Oh ! what are they ? \\'here did you get 
them ? " she cried, with eager interest. 

" They are young swallows that Tobias and 
I picked up at the root of a hollow tree. We 
took them home to his sister, thinking she 
might like to raise them, but she was afraid she 
could n't." 

" Oh, give them to me ! " exclaimed Bertha. 

" Do you think you would like to try ? " 

" If you will let me ! What do they live on ? " 

" That is the troublesome question," said the 
schoolmaster. " The old birds live on in.sects, — 
flies, moths, anything they can catch in the 
air, — and I suppose they must feed their young 
ones on the same sort of food." 

" I can catch flies enough, if they will only 
eat them ! " said Bertha. 

" In that case," Mr. Allerton replied, " I shall 


be only too well pleased to have you take them, 
and Tobias, I am sure, will be delighted." 

" Oh, thank you ! thank you ! " 

And, forgetting all about the gun. Bertha 
gathered the birds softly into her warm hands, 
and ran with them into the house. 

Mr. Allerton, greatly relieved, shook out his 
handkerchief, wiped his forehead, gave his little 
coil of hair a long-needed pat, and walked away, 
with a smile of serene satisfaction. 

Not long after that, Tom Tazwell came home. 
Yellow Jacket, on their return trip down the 
lake, had refused to dive again for the gun. 

" No use," he said, finding it less easy to see 
into the depths of the water than when the sun 
was on it. " You might as well look for a lost 
toothpick in the Adirondack woods. You can 
take my opinion for what it 's worth." 

He gave his head a shake, implying that the 
said opinion was that of an expert, and " worth 

" It 's jest as I told you in the first place. 
That gun has sunk down in the mud, where 
you never '11 set eyes on it again." 

It might have been a satisfaction to the vil- 
lage idler to recover the gun, and secure the 
reward Tom had offered for it. But it was also 
a satisfaction to have his original prediction ful- 
filled. That, to a boaster hke Yellow Jacket, 
was worth at least five dollars. 

Tom was not so greatly disappointed as his 
companions expected he would be. 

" Well, never mind ! " he said cheerfully. 
" I '11 go home and tell father." 

Imagine then his surprise when he mounted 
the steps of the porch, and found the lost gun 
leaning quietly and naturally beside the door ! 

" Great Caesar ! " he exclaimed, staring at it. 
" How in thunder ! — " He took it up and handled 
it. " It can't be ! But it is, though ! Dogs and 
cats and Httle elephants ! how did this happen ? " 

He ran into the house in great excitement, 
bawling out : 

'' Where did my rifle come from ? We have 
been diving for it all the afternoon, and here 
it is at the door ! Say, who knows anything 
about it ? " 

At first it appeared that nobody did ; for 
Bertha, in her raptures over the young swal- 
lows, had forgotten to mention the gun. 



"Why, Thomas!" said his mother, " if you 
did n't bring it yourself, I 've no idea how it 
got here." 

"Bring it myself!" cried Tom, impatiently. 
" Don't I tell you I 've been searching the bot- 
tom of the lake for it, for the last five hours ? 
Where 's Bert ? " 

'• In the kitchen, caring for some young birds. 
Perhaps she can tell you about it." 

To the kitchen Tom went, brandishing the 
firearm and blustering. 

" Oh, yes ! " cried Bertha, at a side table, 
leaning over a tiny basket in which she had 
her birdhngs imbedded in cotton-wool. " I can 
tell you all about it. Mr. Allerton brought it. 
He said he and Toby found it without the least 
trouble, and were glad to return it to you." 

" Found it without the least trouble ? " Tom 
muttered, with black looks. " 1 'd like to know 
how ! I don't believe it. And I wish they 
would mind their own business ! " 

" W'hat a return that is for all their trouble ! " 
said Bertha indignantly. 

" You just said it was no trouble ! " Tom 
retorted, glowering first at his sister, then at the 
gun. " Why should they meddle ? " 

" But if they found it, what would you have 
had them do with it ? Tom, you are so un- 
reasonable ! " 

"They did n't do it out of any kindness to 
me," Tom answered. " And if they did, I 
did n't want any of their kindness. Perhaps 
they think they '11 get the five dollars I oftered 
for a reward. But that was a special offer to 
Yellow Jacket." 

" Tom, in your heart, you don't behave they 
had any such mean motive ! You almost make 
me think," said Bertha, " that you don't care to 
have your gun again." 

" I don't care to get it in this way." Then, 
without thinking how the words would sound 
if reported to his father, he added angrily, 
" Why should I want it, anyhow ? I was bound 
to look for it, of course, but I knew if I found 
it there would be no chance of my making 
that trade with Lick Stevens." 

" Oh, Tom ! what will father say to that ? " 
Bertha asked indignantly. 

" He won't say anything, for you won't be 
such a litde goose as to tell him. If you do, 
I '11 come up with you ! What have you got 
there ? " 

" Two dear little birds ; see if you can tell 
of what kind they are." 

Bertha uncovered the basket, willing to di- 
vert the storm of her brother's wrath, and never 
suspecting how much more terrible a tempest 
she was about to raise. 

" Where did you get those ? " he demanded, 
recognizing the young swallows which his own 
thoughtless cruelty had assisted in driving from 
their nests. 

It was not a sight to please him. Poor Ber- 
tha, frightened at the fierceness of his look, at- 
tempted to e.xplain. 

" Now I know it was all intended as an 
insult ! " he said, interrupting her. " But it 
shan't succeed with me, you can tell them ! " 

And snatching up the basket he ran \\ ith it 
out of the house. 

" Oh, Tom ! Tom ! " shrieked Bertha, follow- 
ing and endeavoring to overtake him, " what 
are you going to do ? " 

He flung the little basket back at her, and 
when she stopped to pick it up, only to find it 
empty, he disappeared in the barn, fastening the 
door behind him. 

She pounded and clamored to be let in ; but 
in vain. She had grown strangely quiet, when 
at length the door was opened, and he came 
out, empty-handed, with a hard smile on his 
face, showing that all was over with the birds. 

" Tom Tazwell," she said, choking with emo- 
tion, '■ I ne\er will forgive you in this world ! " 

" I 'ni not going to have any such game 
played on me ! " said Tom, stalking past her 
toward the house. " When Toby asks how I 
liked his swallows, tell him the cat liked them 
very well." 

" Cruel ! cruel ! " cried Bertha, with an intol- 
erable sense of wrong, but with eyes flashing 
through tears. 

(To bt continued.) 


Bv )oHN Burroughs. 

ATURE has 
curious and 
hidden ways in the 
vegetable, as well as 
in the animal world. 
For instance, that 
pretty and very abun- 
dant spring flower of 
ours, the adder's- 
tongue, or dog's-tooth 
violet, presents a 
problem which I have 
not yet been able to solve. This plant, you know, 
is a hly, and all the lilies, so far as I know, have 
a bulb that sits on top of the ground. The onion is 
a fair type of the HI}' in this respect. But here 
is a lily with a bulb deep in the ground. How 
does it get there ? that is the problem. The 
class-book on botany says the bulb is deep in 
the ground, but offers no explanation. Now it 
is only the bulbs of the older or flowering plants 
that are dee]) in the ground. The bulbs of the 
young plants are near the top of the ground. 
The young plants have but one leaf, the older 
or flowering ones have two. If you happen to be 
in the woods at the right time in early .April, you 

may see these leaves compactly rolled together, 
piercing the matted coating of dry leaves that 
covers the ground, like some sharp-pointed in- 
strument. They do not burst their covering, 
or lift it up, but pierce through it like an awl. 

But how does the old bulb get so deep into 
the ground ? In digging some of them up 
last spring in an old meadow-bottom, I had to 
cleave the tough, fibrous sod to a depth of 
eight inches. Some smaller ones were only two 
inches below the surface. A friend of mine tells 
me he has discovered how the thing is done. 
Next summer I hope either to disprove or else 
to confirm his observation. In the mean time, 
if any of the young readers of this magazine can 
solve the problem, they will be acquiring a bit 
of fresh and original knowledge that will, I 
know, taste wonderfully good to them. 

The field of natural history has been so closely 
gleaned, so little remains to be found out about 
the habits of our familiar birds and flowers, 
that an unsolved problem like this is something 
to be prized. It is a pity that this graceful 
flower has no good and appropriate common 
name. It is the earliest of the true lilies, and 
it has all the grace and charm that belong to this 

order of flowers. EryZ/iivtiiuiii, its botanical 
name, is not good, as it is derived from a Greek 
word that means red, while one species of our 
flower is yellow and the other is white. How 
it came to be called adder's-tongue I do not 
know ; probably from the spotted character of 





the leaf, which might suggest a .snake, though it 
in no wise resembles a snake's tongue. A fawn 
is spotted, too, and " fawn-lily " would be better 
than adder'.s-tongue. '!"he "dog's-tooth" may 

have been suggested by the shape and color of 
the bud, but how the " violet " came to be added 
is a puzzle, as it has not one feature of the violet. 
It is only another illustration of the haphazard 
way in which our wild flowers, as well as our 
birds, have been named. 

In my spring rambles I have sometimes come 
upon a solitary specimen of this yellow lily 
growing beside a mossy stone where the sun- 
shine fell full upon it, and have thought it one 
of the most beautiful of our wild flowers. Its 
two leaves stand up like a fawn's cars, and this 
feature, with its re-curved petals, gives it an alert, 
wide-awake look. The white species I have 
never seen. 

Another of our common wild flowers, whicli 
I always look at with an interrogation-point in 
my mind, is the wild-ginger. Why should this 
plant always hide its flower ? Its two fuzzy, 
heart-shaped green leaves stand up very con- 
spicuously amid the rocks or mossy stones, but 
its one curious, brown, bell-.shaped flower is 
always hidden beneath the moss or dry leaves, 
as if too modest to face the light of the open 
woods. As a rule, the one thing which a plant 
is anxious to show and to make much of, and 
to flaunt before all the world, is its flower. But 
the wild-ginger reverses the rule and blooms in 
secret. Instead of turning upward toward the 
light and air, it turns downward toward the 
darkness and the silence. It has no corolla, 
but what the botanists call a lurid, that is, 
brown-purple calyx, which is conspicuous like a 
corolla. Its root leaves in the mouth a taste 
precisely like that of ginger. 

This plant and the clo.sed gentian are apjwrent 
exceptions, in their manner of blooming, to the 
general habit of the rest of our flowers. The 
closed gentian does not hide its flower, but the 
corolla never opens ; it always remains a closed 
bud. It probably never experiences the bene- 
fits of insect visits, which Darwin showed us 
were of such importance in the vegetable world. 
I once plucked one of the flowers into which a 
bumble-bee had forced his way, but he had 
never come out; the flower was his tomb. 

There is yet another curious exception which 
I will mention, namely, the witch-hazel. All 
our trees and ]3lants bloom in the spring, except 
this one species : this blooms in the fall. Just 


as its leaves are fading and falling, its flowers 
appear, giving out an odor along the bushy 
lanes and margins of the woods that is to the 
nose like cool water to the hand. Why it 
should bloom in the fall instead of in the spring 
is a mystery. And it is probably because of 


So it is, as taught from the text-books in the 
schools ; but study it yourself in the fields and 
woods, and you will find it a source of peren- 
nial delight. Find your flower and then name 
it by the aid of the botany. There is so much 
in a name. To find out what a thinti is called 


this very curious trait that its branches are 
used as divining-rods by certain credulous per- 
sons, to point out where springs of water and 
precious metals are hidden. 

One of the most fugitive and uncertain of our 
wild flowers, but a very dehcate and beautiful one, 
is the climbing corydalis, or mountain-fringe. It 
is first cousin to squirrel-corn and ear-drop, our 
two species of dicentra ; but, unlike these, it seems 
to have no settled abode nor regularity in its ap- 
pearance. In my locality it comes, as the wild 
pigeons used to do in my boyhood, at long inter- 
vals. I had not found any in my walks for years, 
till after the West Shore Railroad was put 
through. Then suddenly a ledge that had been 
partly bla.sted away in the edge of the woods 
was overrun with it. It appeared also at other 
points in the path of the destroyers along the 
road. The dynamite and giant-powder seemed to 
have awakened it from the sleep of years. It 
has now gone to sleep again, as none is ever 
seen in these localities. Probably an earthquake 
or another gang of railroad builders would wake 
it up. I gathered some seed and sowed them in 
other places, but no plants have appeared there. 

Most young people find botany a dull study. 

is a great help. It is the beginning of know- 
ledge ; it is the first step. When we see a new 
person who interests us, we wish to know his or 
her name. A bird, a flower, a place, — the first 
thing we wish to know about it is its name. 
Its name helps us to classify it ; it gives us a 
handle to grasp it by, it sheds a ray of light 
where all before was darkness. As soon as we 
know the name of a thing, we seem to have 
established some sort of relation with it. 

The other day, w-hile the train was delayed 
by an accident, I wandered a few yards away 
from it along the river margin seeking wild 
flowers. Should I find any whose name I did 
not know ? While thus loitering, a young Eng- 
lish girl also left the train and came in my 
direction, plucking the flowers right and left as 
she came. But they were all unknown to her ; 
she did not know the names of one of them, 
and she wished to send them home to her 
father, too. With what satisfaction she heard 
the names ; the words seemed to be full of mean- 
ing to her, though she had never heard them 
before in her life. It was what she wanted : it 
was an introduction to the flowers, and her 
interest in them increased at once. 




" That orange-colored llower which 
you just plucked from the edge of the 
water, that is our jewel-weed." I said. 

" It looks like a jewel," she replied. 

" You have nothing like it in Eng- 
land, or did not have till lately ; but I 
hear it is now appearing along certain 
English streams, having been brought 
from this country." 

" And what is this ? " she inquired, 
holding up a blue flower with a very 
bristly leaf and stalk. 

"That is viper'.s-bugloss or blueweed, 
a plant from your side of the water, one 
that is making itself thoroughly at 
home along the Hudson and in the 
valleys of some of its tributaries among 
the Catskills. It is a rough, hardy 
weed, but its flower, with its long, con- 
spicuous purple stamens and blue cor- 
olla, as you see, is very pretty." 

" Here is another emigrant from 
across the Atlantic," I said, holding up 
a cluster of small white flowers each 
mounted upon a little inflated brown 
bag or balloon, — the bladder-campion. 
" It also runs riot in some of our fields 
as I am sure you will not see it at 
home." She went on filling her hands 
with flowers, and I gave her the names 
of each, — sweet-clover or melilotus, 
probably a native plant, vervain (for- 
eign), purple loosestrife (foreign), toad- 
flax (foreign), chelone, or turtle-head, 
a native, and the purple mimulus or 
monkey-flower, also a native. It was 
a likely place for the cardinal-flower, but 
I could not find any. I wanted this hearty 
English girl to see one of our native wild 
flowers so intense in color that it would 
fairly make her eyes water to gaze 
upon it. 

Just then the whistle of the engine 
summoned us all aboard, and in a mo- 
ment we were oft". 

When one is stranded anywhere in 
the country in the season of flowers 
or birds, if he feels any interest in 
these things he always has some- 
thing ready at hand to fall back upon. 


And if he feels no interest in them he will do well 
to cultivate an interest. The tedium of an eighty- 
mile drive which I lately took (in September), cut- 
ting through parts of three counties, was greatly 
relieved by noting the various flowers by the road- 
side. First my attention was attracted by wild thyme 
making purple patches here and there in the meadows 
and pastures. I got out of the wagon and gathered 
some of it ; I found honey-bees working upon it, and 
remembered that it was a famous plant for honey in 
parts of the old world. It had probably escaped from 
some garden ; I had never seen it growing wild in 
this way before. Along the Schoharie Kill, I saw 
acres of blueweed or viper's-bugloss, the hairy stems 
of the plants, when looked at toward the sun, hav- 
ing a frosted appearance. 

What is this tall plant by the roadside thickly 
Vol. XVIIL — 43. 


hung with pendent clusters of long 
purplish buds or tassels ? The stalk is 
four feet high, the lower leaves are 
large and lobed, and the whole effect 
of the plant is striking. The clusters of 
purple pendents have a very decorative 
effect. This is a species of nabalus, of 
the great composite family, and is some- 
times called lion's-foot. The flower is 
cream-colored, but quite inconspicuous. 
The noticeable thing about it is the 
drooping or pendulous clusters of what 
appear to be buds, but which are the 
involucres, bundles of purple scales, like 
little staves, out of which the flower 

In another place I caught sight of 



something intensely blue in a wet, weedy place, 
and on getting some of it found it to be the closed 
gentian, a flower to which I have already referred 
as never ojiening but always remaining a bud. 
Four or five of these blue buds, each like the end 
of vour little finger and as long as the first joint. 

crown the top of the stalk, set in a rosette of 
green leaves. It is one of our rarer flowers, 
and a very interesting one, well worth getting 
out of the wagon to gather. As I drove through 

a swampy part of Ulster County, my attentiorb 
was attracted by a climbing plant overrunning 
the low bushes by the sluggish streams, and 
covering them thickly witli clusters of dull white 
flowers. I did not remember ever to have seen it 
before, and on taking it home and examining 
it found it to be climbing boneset. The 
flowers are so much like those of bone- 
set that you would suspect their rela- 
tionship at once. 

Without the name any flower is still 
more or less a stranger to you. The 
name betrays its family, its relationship 
to other flowers, and gives the mind some- 
thing tangible to grasp. It is very diffi- 
cult for persons who have had no special 
training to learn the names of the flowers- 
from the botany. The botany is a sealed 
book to them. The descriptions of the 
flowers are in a language which they do 
not understand at all. And the key is no 
help to them. It is as much a puzzle as 
the botany itself They need a key to 
unlock the key. 

One of these days some one will give 
us a hand-book of our wild flowers, by 
the aid of which we shall all be able to 
name those we gather in our walks with- 
out the trouble of analyzing them. In 
this book we shall have a list of all our 
flowers arranged according to color, as 
white flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, 
pink flowers, etc., with place of growth 
and time of blooming. .Also lists or sub- 
lists of fragrant flowers, climbing flowers, 
marsh flowers, meadow flowers, wood 
flowers, etc., so that, with flower in hand, 
by running over these lists we shall be 
pretty sure to find its name. Having^ 
got its name we can turn to Gray or 
Wood and find a more technical descrip- 
tion of it if we choose. Indeed, I have 
heard that a work with some such features 
has actually been undertaken by a lover of 
birds and flowers in the western part of this. 


By Sophie Swett. 

There were so many of the Primes and they 
grew so fast that their father's long-tailed coat 
was handed all the way down to little Amos, the 
seventh boy ; and last year Tudy actually made 
her "fore-and-aft" cap of one of the tails. If 
one is a minister's daughter in a little out-of-the- 
\\orld Cape Cod town, where some people pay 
tor their share of preaching with salt codfish, 
and others with cranberries, one must develop 
a contriving bump, — and especially if one is 
the only girl in a family of eight, and one's father 
cherishes the old-fashioned opinion that a girl is 
not of much account, anyway. 

Papa Prime's heart yearned over his boys, 
running wild with bare feet among the sanil 
hills, apparently becoming amphibious, but ac- 
quiring very little booTc-learning. How to edu- 
cate them was a problem which absorbed much 
of his thought, but it never occurred to him 
that it was of any consequence, whatever, that 
Tudy wished to be an artist. He knew that her 
head had been full of this fancy from the time 
when, a mite of a girl, she had got into disgrace 
by drawing, in the " long prayer," an old Portu- 
guese sailor, with ear-rings and a wooden leg, 
who had strayed into church, until the last 
school-e.xamination when the committee had or- 
dered that the ship which she had drawn should 
remain on the blackboard, being an honor to 
the district. If Tudy learned, from her Aunt 
Rebekah, to be a thrifty housekeeper, that was 
about all the education that was necessary for 
her, he thought. So it happened that Tudy ate 
her heart out with longing for drawing materials, 
colors to set forth the glories of the East Tilbury 
marshes in September, and lessons that would 
show her just how to express the conceits that 
were thronging her brain and fairly tingling at 
her fingers' ends. When, besides being the only 
girl in a family of eight, one is a twin, one's 
difficulties and trials are increased. Tudy was 
very apt to be held responsible not only for her 

own shortcomings but also for her twin brother's ; 
and to be responsible for Toffy was somerimes 
not a trifling matter. 

Their father had settled upon Toffy to be the 
minister of the family. Ben, the eldest son, had 
sorely disappointed him by a persistent deter- 
mination to become a sailor ; failing to obtain 
his father's consent, Ben had run away to sea, 
and now no one dared to mention his name in 
his father's presence, but Tudy and Aunt Re- 
bekah cried themselves to sleep every stormy 
night. It seemed to Tudy that her father had 
grown ten years older since Ben had run away. 
And now here was Toffy manifesting a trading- 
bump, apparently the only one in the family. 
His father had talked to him earnestly of the 
hopes which he had centered in him, and Tudy, 
with a deep sense of responsibility, had set before 
him the delights of learning, all in vain. It is 
possible that Tudy's arguments might have had 
more effect if Toffy had not been acquainted 
with her great weakness in the matter of the 
multiplication table, and with her private opin- 
ion of parking. But Toffy, even in dresses, had 
yearned to play marbles " for keeps," and while 
the front yard fence still overtopped him he 
had, through the slats, challenged every passer 
to " swop knives" with him. .Almost ever since 
he had worn jacketj, he had been saving up to 
buy a cranberry meadow, and the walls of the 
wood-shed were covered with an imaginary 
profit and loss account of the cranberry busi- 
ness ; but, alas for poor Toffy ! on this summer 
when he was fourteen his prospects of owning 
a cranberry meadow were represented by thirty- 
seven cents, and he suspected Aunt Rebekah 
of having dark designs upon that sum for the 
purchase of his straw hat. 

Even his poultry business, upon which he 
could generally depend, had proved unprofit- 
able this season ; his sitting hens all " rose up " 
(as .Ann Kenny, the Irish washerwoman, said), a 


great mortalit)- visited his young turkeys, and 
Aunt Rebekah had an unjjrincipled way of 
making cake and custards of his eggs before 
the egg-man came around. 

But Toffy's determination to become a busi- 

ness man was not overthrown by these reverses, 
nor by the elusiveness of the cranberry meadow. 
He could see no advantage in grinding over 
Latin declensions, and when Tudy exhorted him 
to work his way through college as a preliminary 
to being President, — to be a minister meant, 
in Tudy's experience, to be so poor that she 
had not the heart to keep that calling stead- 
fasdy before Toffy's eyes, — Toffy replied that he 
would rather keep a store. 

Aunt Rebekah said, when she heanl of Toffy's 
ambition, that she had known folks to serve the 
Lord keeping store, and make money, too. And 
it was evident that Aunt Rebekah thought that 
this combination of aims was not to be despised. 
But Papa Prime, who had never scrajjed the 

flour-barrel, nor made over a coat seven times, 
sighed heavily, and began to look among the 
rest of his flock for the one who .should follow 
in his footsteps. Isaiah, who came next to the 
twins, was addicted to truancy and eccentric 
spelling ; even now the 
minister's heart was 
heavy over a soiled and 
crumpled scrawl which 
had been presented to 
the school-teacher by 
Isaiah and by him for- 
warded to the culprit's 
father : " pleez igscuz 
the barer for beeing 
Late. And Oblidge 
yures truly, rev absalom 

As to his morals 
Isaiah might reform, 
but Papa Prime de- 
spaired of his spelling. 
Samuel, who came next, 
owned an imagination 
which imparted an 
"Arabian Nights" fla- 
\or to his simplest state- 
ments, and in matter- 
of-fact East Tilbury the 
minister'sclistressed ears 
had heard him called 
" Lying Sammy." Then 
Lysander was inordi- 
-'^*^'-'' " nately fat and fond of 

])ie, and his father was afraid that he would never 
be spiritually minded ; and, to say nothing of Ab- 
salom's fixed determination to become a circus 
clown, it was feared that his stammer was incur- 
able. Peleg and little Amos were notoriously mis- 
chievous and troublesome, but as they were but 
six and seven respectively, a less despondent soul 
than the minister's might cherish hopes of their 

Papa Prime doubted whether the Lord had 
blessed him in his children, and perhaps it was 
unfortunate that Tudy should have taken the 
very day on which he had heard Toffy's re- 
mark about keeping store and been led by it 
to this gloomy survey of his whole family, to 
tell him that Miss Halford, the drawing-teacher 


at the S Academy, had kindly offered to 

give her a drawing-lesson twice a week. The 
minister said, decidedly, that Tudy could not 

walk four miles to S , and he could not 

afford to pay her fare in the stage. Moreover, 
she would better give her rime to such useful 
occupations as cooking and sewing. 

Here was another child who was a disap- 
pointment with her desire for vain accomplish- 
ments, the minister thought bitterly. And 
Tudy went away feeling herself the most 
deeply injured and unhappy girl in the whole 
round world. If she were not the only girl 
m the family she would run away, like Ben, 
she said to herself; but some one must help 
Aunt Rebekah to level the weekly mountain 
of patching and darning, avert their father's 
anger from Isaiah and Lysander, keep Peleg 
and little Amos from setting the house on fire 
or falling into the well, and, last but not least, 
be responsible for Toffy. Oddly enough, what 
he felt to be a great stroke of good fortune 
had come to Toffy on this very day. It is 
seldom that one's dearest ambitions are real- 
ized so soon, but Toffy had actually had an 
opportunity to become a partner in a store. 
Uave Rickerby, whose father was postmaster 
and storekeeper of East Tilbur)', had planned 
to go into business in this summer vacation. 
Dave already had several irons in the fire, be- 
ing the owner of a small cranberry meadow, 
part-owner of the " Frisky Kitty," a jaunty lit- 
tle cat-boat which thriftily went fishing in the 
fall and spring, and then, being thoroughly 
cleansed of her fishiness and thickly painted, 
took the summer guests of the Tilbury House 
on pleasure excursions ; moreover Dave this 
summer had taken the contract to supply the 
Tilbury House with clams and band concerts 
(himself reinforcing the somewhat feeble Sandy 
Harbor band with a drum and fish-horn). 
Dave was nothing if not enterprising ; he had 
keen eyes for a business opening, and great 
promptness in avaihng himself of it. Toffy 
greatly respected Dave Rickerby. 

Now that Tilbury Center had become a 
watering-place, and the summer guests drove 
or sailed over to East Tilbury every day, and 
excursion boats often landed there, Dave was 
of the opinion that a small store, kept in an old 


fish-curing establishment that belonged to his 
father, down on the wharf, would be a paying 
investment. He meant to keep fruit, candy, 
and nuts, ginger beer and pickled limes, the 
latter a delicacy much esteemed by the youth- 
ful population of East Tilbury. 

'■ It 's well to look out for the home trade," 
explained Dave with his legs dangling from his 
father's counter, while Toffy astride a barrel 
listened open-mouthed as if he were literally 
drinking in wisdom. 

Toffy was very proud to have been selected 
as a partner by Dave. 

" Of I could have found a partner 
with money," Dave had said ; " but I know 
business talent when I see it." And Toffy felt 
that, for the first time in his life, he was appre- 

But when Tudy heard the terms of the part- 
nership she thought that Toffy's share of the 
profits was to be small. Tofiy had scarcely 
thought of that, he had been so flattered by 
Dave's appreciation. " He is n't giving you a 
fair share, Toffy," she said, indignantly. 

" It 's Capital ; Labor can't contend against 
it," said Toffy gloomily. Toffy read the news- 
papers and heard the questions of the day dis- 
cussed in the store, but he had never felt quite 
sure with which side of the " labor question " he 
sympathized, until now. 

'• By the time that he gets ten per cent, on 
the mone}- he invests there will be no more 
profits left to divide I " said Tudy, who was not 
obtuse if she did have difficulties with the mul- 
tiplicarion table. " And he will expect you to 
do all the work." 

" Yes, of course ; that 's what he wants me 
for; that 's the way you have to do if you have 
no capital," said Toffy. " But it 's a great 
opening for me, as Dave says. There 's the ex- 
perience, you know. But I don't know what 
father will say about it. ]'i>u '(/better ask him, 

Tudy's face lengthened dolefully. The expe- 
rience which she had just had with her father 
was not encouraging. 

" I could n't ask him to-day, and I would n't 
if I were you," she said. The minister had 
moods like other people, and his daughter 
thought that he might be less severe upon 


Tofly's sliopkccping ambitions if the question 
were presented another day. 

" Perhaps we 'd better not ask him at all," 
suggested Toffy, after reflection. " It 's safer." 

At any previous time Tudy would have 
strongly dissented from this proposition, but now 
she was very bitter over 
the destruction of her 
own hopes. It would 
be too bad if her father 
should crush Toffy's in 
the same way. 

" If anybody should 
speak to him of my being 
in the store, we could let 
him think that I was 
just tending for Dave. 
That 's all it amounts 
to, any way. And it may 
be a failure, so there 
won't be any need of 
telling him." 

Toffy looked some- 
what surprised, and very 
much relieved that Tudy 
made no attempt to re- 
fute this logic. Tudy's 
generally stem views of 
duty and propriety were 
sometimes distasteful to 
Toffy. " I can do my 
Latin just the same. He 
says I 've got to stick 
to it all through vaca- „,^^ .^ ca>mt4l- lab 

tion." Toffy made a wry 

face. " You can tend for me sometimes, can't 
you ? I would n't dare to trust any of the 

Tudy reflected that it was very pleasant down 
there on the wharf, and if one were obliged to 
count one's fingers in making change one could 
probably do it under the counter; and she 
always wished to help Toffy — poor Toffy! — 
whose tastes, like hers, were frowned upon. 

So it came about that when the litde place 
on the wharf had been thoroughly scrubbed 
and whitewashed — somewhat dingy and tum- 
ble-down and very fishy it was — Tudy pinked 
blue and white paper for the shelves, and pinned 
some of her sketches upon the walls. 


And Dave appreciated her assistance so highly 
as to offer for her acceptance a small pickled 
lime, which was quite wonderful for Dave, who 
disapproved of giving anything away. .And 
Tudy was called upon to tend store almost 
every day. Dave su])erintended affairs for a 


while, every morning, and he kept the books 
(the accounts were, in fact, set down upon a 
broken slate, but Dave had impressed Toffy 
with the desirability of giving an air of impor- 
tance to the establishment, so they always spoke 
of "keeping the books"), but Toffy was expected 
to be there constantly, and the Latin lessons, 
to say nothing of the cares of wood chopping 
and poultry keeping, and the occasional beguile- 
ment of a game of ball, which not even the 
sternest business principles could resist, made 
this very difficult. 

Aunt Rebekah was forced to do the mend- 
ing alone, and even to make the ginger cookies 
for which Tudv was famous, and it became 



necessary to use much discretion to prevent 
the minister from finding out about the store. 

Being responsible for Tofty was harder than 
•ever. Business was brisk at first ; for the most 
part, the customers were children with a few 
peimies to spend. But, sometimes, when the 
fishing-boats were in, or an excursion steamer 
made a landing at the wharf, the stock would 
be almost exhausted in a few minutes, and Tudy, 
racking her brains and frantically counting her 
fingers under the counter, would firmly resolve 
to privately master the multiplication table be- 
fore the next boat came in. 

But, after the novelty wore away, the home 
trade, as Dave called it, began to fall off; the 
tin banks of East Tilbury began to give forth 
their wonted jingle, and a virtuous sense of 
■" saving up " again filled many an over-tempted 
breast. Except when the boats came in, it was 
•dull, and Toffy allowed himself to be beguiled 
more and more by the charms of ball playing ; 
moreover, he was securing jobs to row and sail 
boats for the summer visitors ; he hoped to 
earn enough money to have a store of his own, 
by another summer. To be a partner in a 
business where labor was so overridden by 
capital was not only offensive to Toffy's feel- 
ings, but against his principles. Tudy carried 
her sketch-book to the store, and cheered her- 
self by drawing pictures in dull times; she 
would have taken the pile of mending, but 
Dave objected to that as looking unbusinesslike. 

One morning, when the only customer was 
little Smith Atwood, who wanted to change his 
stick of candy after he had taken a bite of it, 
Tudy devoted herself to sketching, from the 
window. Smith's small and stocky figure ; strug- 
gling manfully along under the same disadvan- 
tage as "my son John" in the ancient rhyme, 
and with his tow head protruding from the crown 
■of his tattered hat, he struck her as a prom- 
ising subject. But suddenly Smith stood still 
and shrieked, to the full extent of his small 
lungs, and his shrieks were mingled with the 
frantic barking of a dog. If it had not been 
for the dog, Tudy would have taken it for 
granted that the cause of Smith's woe was the 
fact that his candy was all eaten ; he had been 
known to give utterance to his feelings in like 
manner under such circumstances. But the dog 


was barking on the banks of the cove which 
made in behind the wharf; there was a pile of 
boards there, and something hidden in it seemed 
to be the cause of the dog's excitement. 

" It 's my ki-ki-kitten ! " screamed Smith, 
" and that 's Nye's dog that breaks ki-ki-kit- 
tens' backs ! " 

Tudy dropped her sketch-book and ran to 
the upper end of the wharf and jumped down 
upon the pile of boards. It was easy to drive 
Nye's dog away, but the terrified kitten squeezed 
herself out from the boards, and took a fly- 
ing leap on to a rock which was surrounded 
by water. 

■' Now she 's a-goin' to der-der-drownd her- 
self ! " howled Smith. 

" Don't cry ! I '11 get her, Smithy ! " and in a 
moment Tudy had taken the flying leap, too, 
and catching the kitten tossed her lightly back 
to Smith, who by this time had laboriously de- 
scended to the water's edge. 

When it came to taking the flying leap back 
again, without the excitement of the chase, Tudy 
found it another matter. 

" I shall jump short, and it is quicksandy 
about here ! " she said to herself " I don't see 
how I ever did it! " 

The tide was coming in, and while she delib- 
erated the breach widened. She caught sight 
of a piece of driftwood floating about on the 
waves. It looked long enough to cross the 
space between her rock and the shore, and the 
incoming tide w-as bringing it directly towards 
her. It was tossed back again on a retreating 
wave ; forward and backward it wavered, and 
in watching and trying to reach it Tudy failed 
to note the rapid passing of time until the rock 
on which she stood was almost covered with 
water. Just in time to escape a wetting she 
seized the piece of board and made a bridge 
of it to the shore. 

" I never left the store so long before," she 
said to herself, as she climbed quickly to the 
wharf. " But I should have seen any one who 
came along the road, and if an excursion boat 
had come in I am sure that I should have heard 
the whistle." 

But when Tudy reached the store she felt like 
the little old woman on the king's highway who 
cried, " Oh, lawk 'a' mercy on me, this surely can't 




be I ! " From tlie counter had vanished the 
jar of pickled limes, the basket of lemons, the 
figs, and dates, and nuts, and from the shelves 
were gone the tins of fancy crackers and cakes, 
the boxes of caramels and chocolates, all the 
ginger beer ! Nothing was left but a few jars of 
the poorer candy, and some peanuts. Nothing 
was in disorder ; there were no signs that the 

when she remembered how long she had re- 
mained on the rock, she thought it possible that 
a boat, the Frisky Kitty or another, might have 
put in there, taken the things, and with that 
breeze have sailed out of sight, around the point, 
before she returned. She reflected, with a heavy 
heart, that it was more likely to have been an- 
other boat ; for Dave was too businesslike for a 




thief had been in haste. Tudy looked out upon 
the water, but saw no sign of a boat on all its 
broad surface. 

Could Dave or Toffy have taken away the 
goods to frighten and punish her for having left 
the store ? They had been going to take a 
party out sailing in the Frisky Kitty, but there 
had been so little wind all the forenoon that 
Tudy had half expected to see them come back ; 
a fine breeze was blowing now, however, which 
Dave surely would not miss. She must wait 
until night to know whether it was they who 
had done it. It had seemed at first as if the 
thieves must have vanished into thin air, but 

joke, and it would not be like Toffy to do any- 
thing that would distress her so much. 

At one moment she was tempted to give an 
alarm and try to get .some one on the track of 
the thieves, but in the next she reflected that 
this would not be easy, since there was no tele- 
graph in Tilbury, and she might make a great 
deal of trouble and bring everything to her 
father's knowledge all to no purpose. And then, 
if it should jjrove to be the boys' joke, she 
would have made herself a laughing-stock. 

The day came to an end, as even long days 
will, and u]) to the wharf came the Frisky Kitty 
with the sunset gay on her sails. 



'• You did — Oh, lUd n't you take the things 
away ? " gasped Tudy, with all the day's anxiety 
in her voice. One glance at the boys' faces told 
her that her hope was in vain. And they were 
both very severe, even Toffy showing no regard 
for her feelings. He said it was "just like a girl 
to neglect business to run after a kitten," and 
Dave said, loftily, that " it would never have 
been his way to trust a girl, and he hoped that 
Tofify realized that he was responsible for the 
loss." .\nd then he got out the broken slate and 
reckoned up the loss ; he said it was no more 
than fair that he should charge the retail price 
for everything because that was what he should 
have got; and he brought the figures up to a 
height that made Tudy dizzy, and Toffy turn 
pale. Even arithmetic was never so dreadful 
before ! Oh, why had Providence permitted 
Smith Atwood to have a sweet tooth, or his stu- 
pid kitten to follow him ? 

" You 've ruined me, that 's all ! " Toffy said to 
her bitterly, when Dave had brought his account 
up to nineteen dollars and eighty-seven cents. 

He must have half the money at once to re- 
stock his store, Dave said ; the rest Tofty might 
" work out " on board the Frisky Kitty, and in his 
cranberry meadow. Of course the partnership 
was at an end ; he should be obliged to have a 
partner with money. Nolly Van Dusen, a New 
York boy who was spending the summer at the 
Tilbury House, was desirous of being admitted 
into the firm. 

While Tudy was having her miserable day. 

Miss Halford, the drawing-teacher at S , 

was visiting the minister. She had been much 
impressed by Tudy's talent, and had come to try 
to persuade her father to allow her to take les- 
sons. Mr. Prime was quite unmoved by her 
arguments while she remained, but after she had 
gone one of them returned to him with some 
force. Tudy might be obliged to earn her own 
living, and many womanly occupations, such as 
sewing and teaching, were overcrowded. Aunt 
Rebekah had once said something of the kind 
to him. The minister, who, when he was con- 
vinced of a duty, lost no time in performing it, 
walked over to Tilbury Center, iintler a hot sun, 
and called at the bank. 

He met Tudy at the gate when she came 
home, and put some money into her hand. 

" Miss Halford has been here, and has con- 
vinced me that it would not be amiss for you 
to take drawing-lessons," he said. " Your Uncle 
Phineas put five dollars into the bank for each 
of you when you were born. Yours amounts to 
nearly eight dollars now, as you see. It will be 
enough to buy your materials and pay your fare 

Poor Tudy strangled the largest sob that had 
ever filled her throat. 

" Oh, Father, I shall have to take it to pay a 
debt! I owe somebody — such a lot ! I can't 
tell you about it, because — because it concerns 
somebody else," she stammered. 

The minister fairly groaned. Were ever chil- 
dren so troublesome and disappointing as his ? 
" You would better tell your aunt. A girl like 
you should not have secrets or debts. I don't 

" Oh, you could n't. Father, you could n't ! " 
cried Tudy, hastily trying to forestall inquiry. 
" It was all about a kitten and things, and 
something that was carried oft"." 

The minister frowned severely, and turned 
away. He had a great distaste for the petty, 
practical details of living, and he disapproved 
of kittens. Tudy had' a guilty sense of having 
taken advantage of her father's weakness, but 
as she ran out to the poultry yard to find Toffy 
she was not without a thrill of happiness in the 
possession of the money. She found Toffy rue- 
fully survejing his bantams, to discover whether 
he could bear to sell them. 

" Here 's almost half the money, Toff"y, and 
I will sell a pair of my guinea-hens to make up 
the difference ! " she cried. 

Tofty had to hear all about it ; such a mir- 
acle as the possession of eight dollars must be 

" It 's too bad about your drawing-lessons, 
but probably you would n't have done much at 
it ; girls can't," said Tofty philosophically, as he 
pocketed the money. " I 'm going to charge 
Dave Rickerby well for my labor ! " he added. 
" He '11 find out ! And I 'm going to be a 
Labor Reformer — an .\gitator." Toff'y pro- 
nounced the words as if they were spelled with 
very large capitals. 

But in spite of the high charges it took a 
long time to work out the rest of the debt. 



Tiidy sewed stockings from the factory to help, 
and she tried not to think of drawing. Her 
sketch-book had been carried away in the raid on 
the store ; she remembered that she had dropped 
it into the basket of lemons ; probably the thieves 
had thrown it away. 

But one September day when Toffy had 
picked cranberries for Dave after school, as 
the last instalment of his debt, a large bo.\ ar- 
rived at the post-office for '' Miss Arethusa 
Prime." It was such a very unusual event 
that Tudy walked around and around the box, 
on the back porch, and dared not open it. 
And Toffy was not at all sure that it was not 
an infernal-machine intended to blow him up 
for being an Agitator. 

It was not until Dave Rickerby had come 
around, and the minister, too, had arrived, 
that the bo.\ was opened. There was a letter 
on the top addressed, like the box, to Miss 
Arethusa Prime, and beneath it lay the sketch- 
book which Tudy had expected never to see 

The letter, which Tud)- read aloud with in- 
creasing wonder in her voice, set forth that 
the writer, who was the proprietor of the 
yacht " Spitfire," having, on a certain day of 
July, been so long becalmed that provisions 
on board the yacht were entirely exhausted, 
had sent his steward on shore at East Tilbury, 
to secure whatever provisions he could in the 
least jjossible time, that they might catch a 
sudden breeze ; that finding no one in the store 
the man had carried oft" whatever he could lay 
his hands on, and the sketch-book had been 
found in a basket of lemons ; that he, being an 
artist — " Oh, he is the great artist, C ! " in- 
terpolated Tudy, actually turning pale as she 
looked at the name signed on the last sheet — 
had been much interested in her sketches, 
which he thought showed remarkable talent, 
and this opinion was shared by the whole 
party of artists on board the yacht ; that only 
a severe accident, which had disabled both his 
yacht and himself — "Oh, I read about the 
Spitfire ; a schooner ran into her in the fog, 
and two or three fellows got hurt," cried Dave. 

" A severe accident," continued Tudy, " had 
prevented him from paying for the goods taken, 
and restoring the sketch-book. Would Miss 


Prime accept from brotlier artists the enclosed 
materials, which must be .somewhat difficult to 
obtain in her remote home, and would she kindly 
reimburse the injured shopkeeper, and after- 
ward use anything that might remain of the 
one hundred dollars enclosed to further her ar- 
tistic career ? If she would prefer to consider 
it a loan she might repay it at her convenience." 

The great box was full of drawing-paper, 
drawing-materials, and colors. 

" Oh, how could they know just what I wanted 
only from seeing my name ? " cried Tudy, look- 
ing through tears of joy from the precious con- 
tents of the box to the thin little strip of paper 
which had fluttered from the letter, and which 
was a check that meant a hundred dollars. 

" I say, you can't blame me if I did hurry you 
up a little about paying me, because now it 's 
all yours," said Dave. 

The minister was hearing it all. They had to 
explain to him just how the robbery occurred. 

" ."^nd you 've been working to pay it ? " was 
all he .said. 

"Toffy has worked like — like a bear!" said 
Tudy. " But listen ! There 's some more." 

" We should hardly have been able to dis- 
cover the name of the place where our theft was 
committed," the letter went on, " if it had not 
happened that our sailing-master was a native 
of East Tilbury, a young man of your name, 
Benjamin Prime. He had suffered great hard- 
ships on a foreign voyage, and so was glad to 
take the comparatively easy position of captain 
of a yacht for the summer. You may be pleased 
to know that his ability, fine character, and the 
bravery shown at the time of the accident inter- 
ested us so greatly in him that we have helped 
him to secure a very responsible position, for 
so young a man, with a steamship comj)anv in 
New York." 

The minister swallowed something hard ; in 
another moment tears were running down his 
thin, severe face. 

" My boy Ben ! — of course he was brave I 
He must come home, Tudy, he must come 
home ! " 

Tudy's heart danced. That was almost better 
than all the rest ! And to hear her father say, 
"The Lord has blessed me in my childi en, after 
all, Rebekah ! " 


During the reading of the letter, Dave had '• I '11 try it. There ought not to be any 

been somewhat ill at ease. contest between Capital and Labor," said Tofi'y, 

" I say, Tofify, you and I must try a partner- seriously. " But sometimes I don't think I know 

ship again, next spring," he broke out, at the quite enough to go into business yet. Tudy 

first opportunity. " I 'm glad that fellow Nolly thinks Latin would help." 


Van Dusen is going home to-morrow ; he 's a Dave looked a litde alarmed. He diel n't 

reg'lar cheat — claiming everything, because he altogether approve of Tudy's influence, 

has more money than I ! I don't know but I " Oh, I was going to say — about girls, you 

have been a litde mean, Tofi'y, but a — a fellow know. We won't have 'em to tend, will we? 

has to look out. We '11 share and share alike, They will run after kittens and things, and 

except fair interest on money." another time it might not turn out so well." 


By Noah Brooks. 

[Beguu in the Novemheriiumbet 

Chapter XVI. 


The hunters had better success on their 
second day's search for buffalo ; for they not 
only found the animals, but they killed three. 
The first game of the day was brought down 
by Younkins, who was the " guide, philosopher, 
and friend " of the party, and Oscar, the young- 
est of them all, slew the second. The honor of 
bringing down the third and last was Uncle 
Aleck's. When he had killed his game, he was 
anxious to get home as soon as possible, some- 
what to the amusement of the others, who ral- 
lied him on his selfishness. They hinted that 
he would not be so ready to go home, if he 
yet had his buffalo to kill, as had some of 
the others. 

" I 'm worried about the ( rop, lo tell the 

truth," said Mr. Howell. " If that herd of buf- 
falo swept down on our claim, there 's precious 
little com left there now ; and it seemed to me 
that they went in that direction." 

" If that 's the case," said the easy-going Youn- 
kins, " what 's the use of going home? If the 
com is gone, you can't get it back by looking 
at the place where it was." 

They laughed at this cool and practical way 
of looking at things, and Uncle Aleck was half- 
ashamed to admit he wanted to be rid of jiis 
present suspense, and could not be satisfied until 
he had settled in his mind all that he dreatied 
and feared. 

It was a long and wearisome tramp home- 
ward. But they had been more successful than 
they had hoped or expected, and the way did 
not seem so long as if they had been return- 
ing empty-handed. The choicest parts of their 
game had been carefully cooled by hanging 
in the drv Kansas wind, over niirlit. and were 


now loaded upon the pack-animals. There 
was enough and more than enough for each of 
the three families represented in the party ; and 
they had enjoyed many a savory repast of buf- 
falo meat cooked hunter-fashion before an open 
camp-fire, while their e.xpedition lasted. So 
they hailed with pleasure the crooked line of 
bluffs that marks the big bend of the Republican 
Fork near which the Whittier cabin was built. 
Here and there they had crossed the trail, broad 
and well pounded, of the great herd that had 
been stampeded on the first day of their hunt. 
But for the most part the track of the animal 
multitude bore off more to the south, and the 
hunters soon forgot their apprehensions of dan- 
ger to the corn-fields left unfenced on their 

It was sunset when the weary pilgrims reached 
the bluff that overlooked the Younkins claim 
where the Dixon party temporarily dwelt. The 
red light of the sun deluged with splendor the 
waving grass of the prairie below them, and 
jack-rabbits scurrying hither and yon were the 
only signs of life in the peaceful picture. Tired 
as he was, Oscar could not resist taking a shot 
at one of the flying creatures; but before he 
could raise his gun to his shoulder, the long- 
legged, long-eared rabbit was out of range. 
Running briskly for a Mttle distance, it squatted 
in the tall grass. Piqued at this, Oscar stealthily 
followed on the creature's trail. " It will make 
a nice change from so much buffalo meat," said 
the lad to himself, " and if I get him into the 
corn-field he can't hide so easily." 

He saw Jack's long ears waving against the 
sky on the next rise of ground, as he muttered 
this to himself, and he pressed forward, resolved 
on one parting .shot. He mounted the roll of 
the prairie and before him lay the corn-field. 
It was what had been a corn-field ! Where had 
stood, on the morning of their departure, a glo- 
rious field of gold and green, the blades waving 
in the breeze like banners, was now a mass of 
ruin. The tumultuous drove had plunged down 
over the ridge above the field, and had fled, in 
one broad swath of destruction, straight over 
every foot of the field, their trail leaving a brown 
and torn surface on the earth, wide on both sides 
of the plantation. Scarcely a trace of greenness 
was left where once the corn-field had been. 


Here and there, ears of grain, broken and 
trampled into the torn earth, hinted what had 
been ; but for the most part hillock, stalk, corn- 
blade, vine and melon were all crushed into an 
indistinguishable confusion, muddy and wrecked. 

Oscar felt a shudder pass down his back, and 
his knees well-nigh gave way under him as 
he caught a glimpse of the ruin that had been 
wrought. Tears were in his eyes, and, unable 
to raise a shout, he turned and wildly waved his 
hands to the party who had just then reached 
the door of the cabin. His Uncle Aleck had 
been watching the lad, and as he saw him turn 
he exclaimed : " Oscar has found the buffalo 
trail over the corn-field ! " 

The whole party moved quickly in the direc- 
tion of the plantation. When they reached the 
rise of ground overlooking the field, Oscar, 
still unable to speak, turned and looked at his 
father with a face of grief Uncle Aleck, gazing 
on the wreck and ruin, said only : " A whole 
summer's work gone ! " 

" A dearly bought buffalo-hunt ! " remarked 

" That 's so, neighbor," added Mr. Bryant, 
with the grimmest sort of a smile; and then 
the men fell to talking calmly of the wonderful 
amount of mischief that a drove of buftalo could 
do in a few minutes, even seconds, of time. 
Evidently, the animals had not stopped to 
snatch a bite by the way. They had not tar- 
ried an instant in their wild course. Down the 
slope of the fields they had hurried in a mad 
rush, plunged into the woody creek below, 
and, leaving the underbrush and vines broken 
and flattened as if a tornado had passed through 
the land, had thundered away the flat 
floor of the bottom land on the further side of 
the creek. A broad brown track behind them 
showed that they had then fled into the dim 
distance of the lands of the Chapman's Creek 

There was nothing to be done, and not much 
to be said. So, parting with their kindly and 
sympathizing neighbors, the party went sorrow- 
fully home. 

" Well," said Uncle Aleck, as soon as they 
were alone together, " I am awful sorry that we 
have lost the corn ; but I am not so sure that 
it is so very great a loss after all." 


The boys looked nt him with amazemcnl, and 
Sandy said : 

" Why, Daddy, it 's the loss of a whole sum- 
mer; is n't it? What are we going to live on 
this winter that 's coming, now that we have no 
rorn to sell ? " 

" There 's no market for Free State corn in 
these parts, Sandy," replied his father ; and, 
seeing the look of inquiry on the lad's face, he 
explained : " Mr. Fuller tells us that the offi- 
cer at the post, the quartermaster at Fort 
Riley who buys for the Government, will buy 
no grain from Free State men. Several from 
the Smoky Hill and from Chapman's have been 
down there to find a market, and they all say 



tiers re[)ort ; and it sounds reasonable. That 
is why the ruin of the corn-field is not so great 
a misfortune as it might have been." 

Chapier XVH. 


Uncle Aleck and Mr. Bryant had gone 
over to Chapman's Creek to make inc|uiries 
about the prospect of obtaining corn for their 
cattle through the coming winter, as the failure 
of their own crop had made that the ne.\t thing 
to be considered. The three boys were over at 
the Younkins cabin in quest of news from up 
the river, where, it was said, a party of CaH- 

the same thing. The sutler at the post, Sandy's 
friend, told Mr. Fuller that it was no use for any 
Free State man to come there with anything 
to sell to the Government, at any price. And 
there is no other good market nearer than the 
Missouri, you all know that, — one hundred and 
fifty miles away." 

" Well, I call that confoundedly mean ! " cried 
Charlie, with fiery indignation. " Do you sup- 
pose, Daddy, that they have from Washington 
any such instructions to discriminate against us ? " 

" I cannot .sav as to that, Charlie," replieil 
his father, " I onlv tell vou what the other set- 

fornia emigrants had been fired upon by the 
Indians. They found that the party attacked 
was one coming from California, not migrating 
thither. It brought the Indian frontier very 
near the boys to see the shot-riddled wagons, 
left at Younkins's by the travelers. The Chey- 
ennes had shot into the party and had killed 
four and wounded two, at a point known as 
Bufialo Creek, some one hundred miles or so up 
the Republican Fork. It was a daring piece 
of eftVonter\-, as there were two military posts 
not very far away. Fort Kearney above and 
Fort Rilev below. 


" But they are far enough away by this time," 
said Younkins, with some bitterness. " Those 
military posts are good for nothin' but to run 
to in case of trouble. No soldiers can get out 
into the plains from any of them quick enough 
to catch the slowest Indian of the lot." 

Charlie was unwilling to disagree with any- 
thing that Younkins said, for he had the highest 
respect for the opinions of this experienced old 
plainsman. But he could n't help reminding 
him that it would take a very big army to fol- 
low up every stray band of Indians, provided 
any of the tribes should take a notion to go on 
the war-path. 

"Just about this time, though, the men that 
were stationed at Fort Riley are all down at 
Lawrence to keep the Free State people from 
sweeping the streets with Free State brooms, 
or something that-a-way," said Younkins, de- 
termined to have his gibe at the useless sol- 
diery, as he seemed to think them. Oscar 
was interested at once. Anything that related 
to the politics of Kansas the boy listened to 

" It 's something like this," explained Youn- 
kins. " You see the Free State men have got 
a government there at Lawrence which is law- 
ful under the Topeka Legislatur', as it were. 
The Border State men have got a city gov- 
ernment under the Lecompton Legislatur' ; 
and so the two are quarreling to see which 
shall govern the city ; 't is n't much of a city, 

" But what have the troops from Fort Riley 
to do with it ? I don't see that yet," said Oscar, 
with some heat. 

" Well," said Younkins, " I am a poor hand at 
politics, but the way I understand it is that the 
Washington Government is in favor of the Bor- 
der State fellows, and so the troops have been 
sent down to stand by the mayor that belongs 
to the Lecompton fellows. Leastways, that is 
the way the sutler down to the post put it to 
me when I was down there with the folks that 
were fired on up to Buffalo Creek ; I talked with 
him about it yesterday. That 's why I said they 
were at Lawrence to prevent the streets from 
being swept by Free State brooms. That is the 
sutler's joke. See ? " 

•' That 's' what I call outrageous," cried 


Oscar, his eyes snapping with excitement. 
" Here 's a people up here on the frontier being 
massacred by Indians, while the Government 
troops are down at Lawrence in a political 
([uarrel ! " 

The boys were so excited over this state of 
things that they paid very little attention to 
anything else while on their way back to the 
cabin, full of the news of the day. Usually, 
there was not much news to discuss on the 

" What 's that by the cabin-door ? " said 
Sandy, falling back as he looked up the trail 
and behekl a tall white, or light gray, animal 
smelling around the door-step of the cabin, only 
a half-mile away. It seemed to be about as 
large as a full-grown calf, and it moved stealth- 
ily about, and yet with a certain unconcern, as 
if not used to being scared easily. 

"It's a wolf ! " cried Oscar. "The Sunday 
that Uncle Aleck and I saw one from the bluff 
yonder, he was just like that. Hush, Sandy, 
don't talk so loud or you '11 frighten him ofi" 
before we can get a crack at him. Let 's go up 
the trail by the ravine, and perhaps we can get 
a shot before he sees us." 

It was seldom that the boys stirred abroad 
without firearms of some sort. This time they 
had a shot-gun and a rifle with them, and, ex- 
amining the weapons as they went, they ran 
down into a dry gully, to follow which would 
bring them unperceived almost as directly to 
the cabin as by the regular trail. As noiselessly 
as possible the boys ran up the gully trail, their 
hearts beating high with expectation. It would 
be a big feather in their caps if they could only 
have a gray wolfs skin to show their elders on 
their return from Chapman's. 

" You go round the upper side of the house 
with your rifle, Oscar, and I 'II go round the 
south side with the shot-gun," was Charlie's 
advice to his cousin when they had reached 
the spring at the head of the gully, back of the 
log-cabin. With the utmost caution the two 
boys crept around opposite corners of the house, 
each hoping he would be lucky enough to 
secure the first shot. Sandy remained behind, 
waiting with suppressed excitement for the shot. 
Instead of the report of a firearm, he heard 
a peal of laughter from both boys. 




"What is it?" he cried, rusliing from his 
place of concealment. " What's the great joke ? " 

" Nothing," said Oscar, laughing heartily, 
" only that as I was steaUng round the corner 
here by the corral, Charlie was tiptoeing round 
the other comer with his eyes bulging out of 
his head as if he expected to see that wolf." 

" Yes," laughed Charlie, " and if he had been 
a little quicker, he would have fired at me. He 
had his gun aimed right straight ahead as he 
came around the corner of the cabin." 

" And that wolf is probably miles and miles 
away from here by this time, while you two fel- 
lows were sneaking around to find him. Just 
as if he was going to wait here for you ! " It 
was Sandy's turn to laugh, then. 

The boys examined the tracks left in the soft 
loam of the garden by the strange animal, and 
came to the conclusion that it must have been 
a very large wolf, for its footsteps were deep as 
if it were a heavy creature, and their size was 
larger than that of any wolf-tracks they had 
ever seen. 

When the elders heard the story on their 
arrival from Chapman's, that evening. Uncle 
Aleck remarked, with some grimness, " So the 
wolf is at the door at last, boys." The lads by 
this understood that poverty could not be far 
off; but they could not comprehend that pov- 
erty could affect them in a land where so much 
to live upon was running wild, so to speak. 

" Who is this that rides so fast ? " queried 
Charlie, a day or two after the wolf adventure, 
as he saw a stranger riding up the trail from 
the ford. It was very seldom that any visitor, 
except the good Younkins, crossed their ford. 
And Younkins always came over on foot. 

Here was a horseman, who rode as if in 
haste. The unaccustomed sight drew all hands 
around the cabin to await the coming of the 
stranger, who rode as if he were on some impor- 
tant errand bent. It was Battles. His errand 
was indeed momentous. A corporal from the 
post had come to his claim, late in the night 
before, bidding him warn all the settlers on the 
Fork that the Cheyennes were coming down 
the Smoky Hill, plundering, burning, and slay- 
ing the .settlers. Thirteen white ])eople had 
been killed in the Smoky Hill country, and the 
savages were evidently making their way to the 

fort, which at that time was left in an unpro- 
tected condition. The commanding officer sent 
word to all settlers that if they valued their 
lives they would abandon their claims and fly 
to the fort for safety. Arms and ammunition 
would be furnished to all who came. Haste 
was necessary, for the Inilians were moving 
ra])idly down the Smoky Hill. 

" But the Smoky Hill is twenty-five or thirty 
miles from here," said Mr. Bryant ; " why should 
they strike across the plains between here and 
there ? " 

Battles did not know ; but he supposed, from 
his talk with the corporal, that it was expected 
that the Cheyennes would not go quite to the 
fort, but, having raided the Smoky Hill country 
down as near to the post as might seem safe, 
they would strike across to the Republican Fork 
at some narrow point between the two rivers, 
travel up that stream, and so go back to the 
plains from which they came, robbing and 
burning by the way. 

The theory seemed a reasonable one. Such 
a raid was like Indian warfare. 

" How many men are there at the post ? " 
asked Uncle Aleck. 

" Ten men including the corporal and a lieu- 
tenant of cavalry," replied Battles, who was a 
pro-slavery man. "The rest are down at Law- 
rence to suppress the rebellion." 

" So the commanding officer at the post wants 
us to come down and help defend the fort, 
which has been left to take care of itself while 
the troops are at Lawrence keeping down the 
Free State men," said Mr. Bryant, bitterly. 
" For my own part, I don't feel like going. 
How is it with you, Aleck ? " 

" I guess we had better take care of ourselves 
and the boys, Charlie," said Uncle Aleck, cheer- 
ily. " It 's pretty mean for Uncle Sam to leave 
the settlers to take care of themselves and the 
post at this critical time, I know ; but we can't 
afford to quibble about that now. Safety is 
the first consideration. What does Younkins 
say ? " he asked of Battles. 

" A rendezvous has been appointed at my 
house to-night," said the man, " and Younkins 
said he would be there before sundown. He 
told me to tell you not to wait for him ; he would 
meet you there. He has sent his wife and chil- 



60 1 

dren over to Fuller's, and Fuller has agreed to 
send them with Mrs. Fuller over to the Big 
Blue, where there is no danger. Fuller will be 
back to my place by midnight. There is no 
time to fool away." 

Here was an unexpected crisis. The coun- 
try was evidently alarmed 
and up in arms. An In- 
dian raid, even if over 
twenty miles away, was a 
terror that they had not 
reckoned on. After a 
hurried consultation, the 
Whittier settlers agreed 
to be at the " randyvoo," 
as Battles called it, be- 
fore daybreak next morn- 
ing. They thought it 
best to take his advice 
and hide what valuables 
they had in the cabin, 
make all snug, and leave 
things as if they never ex- 
pected to see their home 
again, and take their way 
to the post as soon as 

It was yet early morn- 
ing, for Mr. Battles had 
wasted no time in warn- 
ing the settlers as soon 
as he had received notice 
from the Fort. They had 
all the day before them 
for their preparations. So 
the settlers, leaving other 
])lans for the day, went 
zealously to work pack- 
ing up and secreting in 
the thickets and the gully 
the things they thought 

most valuable and were least willing to spare. 
Clothing, crockery, and table knives and forks 
were wrapped up in whatever came handy 
and were buried in holes dug in the plowed 
ground. Lead, bullets, slugs, and tools of va- 
rious kinds were buried or concealed in the 
forks of trees, high up and out of sight, \\here 
any articles were buried in the ground, a fire 
was afterwards built on the surface so that no 
Vol. .Win. — 44. 

trace of the disturbed ground should be left 
to show the expected redskins that goods had 
been there concealed. They lamented that a 
sack of flour and a keg of molasses could not 
be put away, and that their supply of side-meat, 
which had them a long journey to Manhat- 

tan, must be abandoned to the foe — if he came 
to take it. But everything that could be hidden 
in trees or buried in the earth was so disposed 
of as rapidly as possible. 

Perhaps the boys, after the first flush of ap- 
prehension had passed, rather enjoyed the nov- 
elty and the excitement. Their spirits rose as 
they privately talked between themselves of the 
real Indian warfare of which this was a fore- 




taste. They ho[)e(l that it would be nothing 
worse. When the last jjreparations were made, 
and they were ready to depart from their home, 
uncertain whether they would ever see it again, 
Sandy, assisted by Oscar, composed the follow- 
ing address. It was written in a big boyish hand 
on a sheet of letter-paper, and was left on the 
table in the middle of their cabin : 

Good Mister Indian : We are leaving in a hurry and 
we want you to be careful of the fire when you come. 
Don't eat the corn-meal in the sack in the corner ; it is 
poisoned. The flour is full of crickets, and crickets are 
not good for the stomach. Don't fool with the matches, 
nor waste the molasses. Be done as you would do by, 
for that is the golden rule. 

Yours truly, 
The Whittif.r Settlers. 

Even in the midst of their uneasiness and 
trouble, their elders laughed at this unique com- 
position, although Mr. Bryant thought that 
the boys had mixed their version of the golden 
rule. Sandy said that no Cheyenne would be 
likely to improve upon it. So, with many mis- 
givings, the little party closed the door of their 
home behind them, and took up their line of 
march to the rendezvous. 

The shortest way to Battles's was by a ford 
farther down the river and not by the way of the 
Younkins place. So, crossing the creek on a 
fallen tree near where Sandy had shot his fa- 
mous flock of ducks, and then steering straight 
across the flat bottom-land on the opposite side, 
the party struck into a trail that led through 
the cottonwoods skirting the west bank of the 
stream. The moon was full and the darkness of 
the grove through which they w'ended their way 
in single file was lighted by long shafts of moon- 
beams that streamed through the dense growth. 
The silence, save for the steady tramp of the lit- 
tle expedition, was absolute. Now and again a 
night-owl hooted, or a sleeping hare, scared from 
its form, scampered away into the underbrush ; 
but few sounds made the solitude only 
more oppressive. Charlie, bringing up the rear, 
noted the glint of the moonlight on the bar- 
rels of the firearms carried by the party ahead 
of him, and all the romance in his nature was 
kindled by the thought that this was frontier 
life in the Indian country. Not far away, he 
thought, as he turned his face to the south- 
ward, the cabins of .settlers along the Smoky 

Hill were burning, and death and desolation 
marked the trail of the cruel Cheyennes. 

Now and again Sandy, shivering in the 
chill and dampness of the wood, fell back and 
whispered to Oscar, who followed him in the 
narrow trail, that this would be awfully jolly 
if he were not so sleepy. The lad was accus- 
tomed to go to bed soon after dark; it was 
now late into the night. 

All hands were glad when the big double 
cabin of the Battles family came in sight about 
midnight, conspicuous on a rise of the rolling 
prairie and black against the sky. Lights 
were burning brightly in one end of the cabin ; 
in the other end a part of the company had 
gone to sleep, camping on the floor. Hot 
coffee and corn-bread were ready for the new- 
comers, and Younkins, with a tender regard 
for the lads, who were unaccustomed to milk 
when at home, brought out a big pan , of 
delicious cool milk for their refreshment. Al- 
together, as Sandy confessed to himself, an 
Indian scare was not without its fun. He list- 
ened with great interest to the tales that the set- 
tlers had to tell of the e.xploits of " Gray Wolf," 
the leader and chief of the Cheyennes. He 
was a famous man in his time, and some of the 
elder settlers of Kansas will even now remem- 
ber his name with awe. The boys were not 
at all desirous of meeting the Indian foe, but 
they secretly hoped that if they met any of 
the redskins they would see the far-famed Gray 

While the party, refreshed by their late sup- 
per, found a lodging anywhere on the floor 
of the cabin, a watch was set outside, for the 
Indians might pounce upon them at any hour 
of the night or day. Those who had mounted 
guard during the earlier part of the evening 
went to their rest. Charlie, as he dropped ofi" 
to sleep, heard the footsteps of the sentry out- 
side and said to himself, half in jest, '• The Wolf 
is at the door." 

But no wolf came to tlisturb their slumbers. 
The bright and cheerful day, and the song of 
birds dispelled the gloom of the night, and fear 
w-as lifted from the minds of the anxious set- 
tlers, some of whom, separated from wives and 
children, were troubled with thoughts of homes 
despoiled and crops destroyed. Just as they 


had finished breakfast and were preparing for 
the march to the fort, now only two or three 
miles away, a mounted man in the uniform of 
a United States dragoon dashed up to the 
cabin, and, with a flourish of soldierly man- 
ner, informed the company that the command- 
ing officer at the post had information that the 
Cheyennes, instead of crossing over to the Re- 
publican as had been expected, or attacking 
the fort, had turned and gone back the way 
they came. All was safe, and the settlers 
might go home assured that there was no 
danger to themselves or their families. 

Having delivered this welcome message in 
a grand and semi-official manner, the corporal 
dismounted from his steed, in answer to a press- 
ing invitation from Battles, and unbent himself 
like an ordinary mortal to partake of a very 
hearty breakfast of venison, corn-bread, and 
coffee. The company unslung their guns and 
rifles, sat down again, and regaled themselves 
with pipes, occasional cups of strong coftee, and 
yet more exhilarating tales of the exploits and 
adventures of Indian slayers of the earlier time 
on the Kansas frontier. The great Indian 
scare was over. Before night fell again, every 
settler had gone his own way to his claim, glad 
that things were no worse, but grumbling at 
Uncle Sam for the niggardliness which had 
left the region so defenseless when an emer- 
gency had come. 

Chapter XVIII. 


Right glad were our settlers to see their log- 
cabin home peacefully sleeping in the autumnal 
sunshine, as they returned along the familiar 
trail from the river. They had gone back by 
the way of the Younkins place and had partaken 
of the good man's hospitality. Younkins thought 
it best to leave his brood with his neighbors 
on the Big Blue for another day. " The old 
woman," he said, " would feel sort of scary- 
like " until things had well blown over. She 
was all right where she was, and he would try 
to get on alone for a while. So the boys, under 
his guidance, cooked a hearty luncheon which 
they heartily enjoyed. Younkins had milk and 
eggs, both of which articles were luxuries to 


the Whittier boys, for on their ranch they had 
neither cow nor hens. 

" Why can't Ave have some hens this fall. 
Daddy?" asked Sandy, luxuriating in a big bowl 
of custard sweetened with brown sugar, which 
the skilful Charlie had compounded. " We can 
build a hen-house there by the corral, under the 
lee of the cabin, and make it nice and warm for 
the winter. Battles has got hens to sell, and 
perhaps Mr. Younkins would be willing to sell 
us some of his." 

" If we stay, Sandy, we will have some fowls ; 
but we will talk about that by and by," said his 

" Stay ? " echoed Sandy. " Why, is there any 
notion of going back ? Back from Bleeding 
Kansas ? Why, Daddy, I 'm ashamed of you." 

Mr. Howell smiled and looked at his brother- 
in-law. " Things do not look very encouraging 
for a winter in Kansas, bleeding or not bleed- 
ing; do they, Charlie?" 

" Well, if you appeal to me, Father," replied 
the lad, " I shall be glad to stay and glad to go 
home. But, after all, I must say I don't exactly 
see what we can do here this winter. There is 
no farm work that can be done. But it would 
cost an awful lot of money to go back to Dixon, 
unless we took back everything with us and went 
as we came. Would n't it ? " 

Younkins did not say anything, but he looked 
encouragingly at Charlie while the other two 
men discussed the problem. Mr. Bryant said 
it was likely to be a hard winter ; they had no 
com to sell, none to feed to their cattle. " But 
com is so cheap that the settlers over on Solo- 
mon's Fork say they will use it for fuel this win- 
ter. Battles told me so. I 'd like to see a fire 
of com on the cob ; they say it makes a hot fire 
burned that way. Corn-cobs without corn hold 
the heat a long time. I 've tried it." 

" It is just here, boys," said Uncle .Aleck. 
" The folks at home are lonesome ; they write, 
you know, that they want to come out before 
the winter sets in. But it would be mighty hard 
for women out here, this coming winter, with 
big hulking fellows Hke us to cook for and with 
nothing for us to do. Everything to eat would 
have to be bought. We have n't even an ear 
of com for ourselves or our cattle. Instead 
of selling com at the post, as we expected, we 


should have to buy of our neighbors, Mr. Youn- 
kins here, and Mr. Fuller, and would be obliged 
to buy our flour and groceries at the post, or 
down at Manhattan; and they charge two prices 
for things out here ; they have to, for it costs 
money to haul stuff all the way from the river." 
"That's so," said Younkins resignedly. He 
was thinking of making a trip to " the river," as 
the settlers around there always called the Mis- 
souri, one hundred and fifty miles distant. But 
Younkins assured his friends that they were 
welcome to live in his cabin where they still 
were at home, for another year, if they liked, 
and he would haul from the river any purchases 



fully " to hear tliem talking aliout going back 
to Illinois. 

But when the settlers reached home and found 
amusement and some little excitement in the 
digging up of their household treasures and put- 
ting things in place once more, the thought of 
leaving this home in the Far West obtruded 
itself rather unpleasantly on the minds of all 
of them, although nobody spoke of what each 
thought. Oscar had hidden his precious violin 
high up among the rafters of the cabin, being 
willing to lose it only if the cabin were burned. 
There was absolutely no other place where it 
would be safe to leave it. He climbed to the 


that they might make. He was expecting to be 
ready to start for Leavenworth in a few days, 
as they knew, and one of them could go down 
with him and lay in a few supplies. His team 
could haul enough for all hands. If not, why 
then they could double up the two teams and 
bring back half of Leavenworth, if they had 
the money to buy so much. He " hated dread- 

loft overhead and brought it forth with great 
glee, laid his cheek lovingly on its body and 
played a fiimiliar air. Engrossed in his music, 
he played on and on until he ran into the 
melody of " Home, Sweet Home," to which he 
had added many curious and artistic variations. 
" Don't play that, Oscar ; you make me home- 
sick I " cried Charlie, with a suspicious moisture 


in his eyes. " It was all very well for us to 
hear that when this was the only home we had 
or expected to have ; but Daddy and Uncle 
Charlie have set us to thinking about the home 
in lUinois, and that will make us all homesick, 
I really believe." 

'' Here is all my ' funny business ' wasted," cried 
Sandy. " No Indian came to read my comic 
letter, after all. I suppose the mice and crickets 
must have found some amusement in it ; I saw 
any number of them scampering away when I 
opened the door ; but I guess they are the only 
living things that have been here since we went 

" Is n't it queer that we should be gone like 
this for nearly two days," said Oscar, " leaving 
everything behind us, and come back and know 
that nobody has been any nearer to the place 
than we have, all the time ? I can't get used 
to it." 

" i\Iy little philosopher," said his Uncle Char- 
lie, " we are living in the wilderness ; and if )'0u 
were to live here always, you would feel, by and 
by, that every new-comer was an interloper; 
you would resent the intrusion of any more 
settlers here, interfering with our freedom and 
turning out their cattle to graze on the ranges 
that seem to be so like our own, now. That 's 
what happens to frontier settlers, everywhere." 

" Why, yes," said Sandy, " I s'pose we should 
all be like that man over on the Big Blue that 
Mr. Fuller tells about, who moved away when 
a new-comer took up a claim two miles and 
a half from him, because, as he thought, the 
country was getting too crowded. For my 
part, I am willing to have this part of Kansas 
crowded to within, say, a mile and a half of us, 
and no more. Hey, Charlie ? " 

But the prospect of that side of the Republican 
Fork being over-full with settlers did not seem 
very imminent about that time. From parts of 
Kansas nearer to the Missouri River than they 
were, they heard of a slackening in the stream 
of migration. The prospect of a cold winter 
had cooled the ardor of the politicians w-ho had 
determined, earlier in the season, to hold the 
Territory against all comers. Something like a 
truce had been tacidy agreed on, and there was 
a cessation of hostilities for the present. The 
troops had been marched back from Lawrence 


to the post, and no more elections were coming 
on for the present in any part of the Territory. 
Mr. Bryant, who was the only ardent politician 
of the company, thought that it would be a good 
plan to go back to Illinois for the winter. They 
could come out again in the spring and bring 
the rest of the two families with them. The 
land would not run away while they were gone. 

It was with much reluctance that the boys 
accepted this plan of their elders. They were 
especially sorry that it was thought best that the 
two men should stay behind and wind up affairs, 
while the three lads went down to the river with 
Younkins and thence home by steamer from 
Leavenworth down the Missouri to St. Louis. 
But, after a few days of debate, this was thought 
to be the best thing that could be done. It was 
on a dull, dark November day that the boys, 
wading for the last time the cold stream of the 
fork, crossed over to Younkins's early in the 
morning, while the sky was red with the dawn- 
ing, carrying their light baggage with them. 
They had ferried their trunks across the day 
before, using the ox-cart for the purpose and 
loading all into Younkins's team, ready for the 
homeward journey. 

Now that the bustle of departure had come, 
it did not seem so hard to leave the new home 
on the Republican as they had expected. It had 
been agreed that the two men should follow in 
a week, in time to take the last steamboat going 
down the river in the fall, from Fort Benton, 
before the closing of navigation for the season. 
Mr. Bryant had, unknown to the boys, written 
home to Dixon directing that money be .sent in 
a letter addressed to Charlie, in care of a well- 
known firm in Leavenworth. They would find 
it there on their arrival, and that would ena- 
ble them to pay their way down the river to St. 
Louis and thence home by the railroad. 

" But suppose the money should n't turn 
up ? " asked Charlie, when told of the money 
awaiting them. He was accustomed to look on 
the dark side of things sometimes, so the rest 
of them thought. " What then ? " 

" Well, I guess you will have to walk home," 
said his uncle, with a smile. " But don't worry 
about that. At the worst, you can work your 
passage to St. Louis, and there you will find 
your uncle, Oscar G. Bryant, of the firm of 



Bryant, Wilder & Co. I '11 give you his atl- 
dress, and he will see you through, in case of 
accidents. But there will be no accidents. What 
is the use of borrowing trouble about that ? " 

They did not borrow any trouble, and as the)- 
drove away from the scenes that had grown 
so famihar to them they looked forward, as all 
boys would, to an adventurous voyage down the 
Missouri, and a welcome home to their mothers 
and their friends in dear old Dixon. 

The nights were now cold and the days 
chilly. They had cooked a goodly supply of 
provisions for their journey, for they had not 
much ready money to pay for fare by the way. 
At noon they stopped by the roadside and 
made a pot of hot coffee, opened their stores of 
provisions and lunched merrily, gipsy-fashion, 
caring nothing for the curious looks and inquisi- 
tive questions of other wayfarers who passed 
them. For the first few nights they attempted 
to sleep in the wagon. But it was fearfully cold, 
and the wagon-bed, cluttered up with trunks, 
guns, and other things, gave them very little 
room. Miserable and sore, they resolved to 
spend their very last dollar, if need be, in paying 
for lodging at the wayside inns and hospitable 
cabins of the settlers along the road. The 
journey homeward was not nearly so merry as 
that of the outward trip. But new cabins had 
been built along their route, and the lads found 
much amusement in hunting up their former 
camping-places as they drove along the military 
road to Fort Leavenworth. 

In this way, sleeping at the farm-houses and 
such casual taverns as had grown up by the 
highway, and usually getting their supper and 
breakfast where they slept, they crept slowly to- 
ward the river. Sandy was the cashier of the 
party, although he had preferred that Charlie, 
being the eldest, should carry their slender 
supply of cash. Charlie would not take that 
responsibility ; but, as the days went by, he 
rigorously reciuired an accounting ever)- morn- 
ing ; he was very much afraid that their money 
would not hold out until they reached Leaven- 

Twenty miles a day with an ox-team was 
fairly good traveling ; and it was one hundred 
and fifty miles from the Republican to the 
Missouri, as the young emigrants traveled the 

road. A whole week had been consumed by 
the tedious trij) when they drove into the busy 
and bustling town of Leavenworth, one bright 
autumnal morning. All along the way they 
had picked up much information about the 
movement of steamers, and they were delighted 
to find that the steamboat " New Lucy " was 
lying at the levee, ready to sail on the afternoon 
of the very day they would be in Leavenworth. 
They camped, for the last time, in the outskirts 
of the town, a good-natured Border State man 
affording them shelter in his hay-barn, where 
they slept soundly all through their last night in 
Bleeding Kansas. 

The New Lucy, from Fort Benton on the 
upper Missouri, was blowing off steam as they 
drove down to the levee. Younkins helped 
them unload their baggage, wrung their hands, 
one after another, with real tears in his eyes, for 
he had learned to love these hearty, happy lads, 
and then drew away with his cattle to pen them 
for the day and night that he should be there. 
Charlie and Oscar went to the warehouse of 
Osterhaus & Wickham, where they were to 
find the letter from home, the precious letter 
containing forty dollars to pay their expenses 

Sandy sat on the pile of trunks watching with 
great interest the novel sight of hurrying pas- 
sengers, difterent from any people he ever saw 
before ; black " roustabouts," or deck-hands, 
tumbling the cargo and the firewood on board, 
singing, shouting, and laughing the while, the 
white mates overseeing the work with many 
hard words, and the captain, tough and swarthy, 
superintending from the upper deck the mates 
and all hands. A party of nice-looking, citified 
people, as Sandy thought them, attracted his 
attention on the upper deck, and he mentally 
wondered what they could be doing here, so far 
in the wilderness. 

" Car' yer baggage aboard, boss ? " asked a 
lively young negro, half-clad, and hungry-look- 

" No, not yet," answered Sandy, feeling in his 
trousers' pocket the last quarter of a dollar that 
was left them. " Not yet. I am not ready to 
go aboard till my mates come." The hungry- 
looking darky made a rush for another more 
promising passenger and left Sandy lounging 



•where the other lads soon after found him. 
Charlie's face was a picture of despair. Oscar 
looked ver)' grave, for him. 

" What 's up ? " cried Sandy, starting from 
his seat. " Have you seen a ghost? " 

" Worse than that," said Charhe. " Some- 
body 's stolen the money ! " 

" Stolen the money ? " echoed Sandy, with 
vague terror, the whole extent of the catastrophe 
flitting before his mind. " \\'hy, what on earth 
do you mean ? " 

Oscar explained that they had found the 
letter, as they expected, and he produced it, 
written by the two loving mothers at home. 
They said that they had made up their minds to 
send fifty dollars, instead of the forty that Uncle 
Charhe had said would be enough. It was in 
ten-dollar notes, five of them; at least, it had 
been so when the letter left Dixon. When it 
was opened in Leavenworth, it was empty, 
save for the love and tenderness that were in 
it. Sandy groaned. 

The lively young darky came up again with 
" Car' yer baggage aboard, boss ? " 

It was sickening. 

" What 's to be done now ? " said Charlie, in 
deepest dejection, as he sat on the pile of bag- 
gage that now looked so useless and needless. 
" I just believe some of the scamps I saw loaf- 
ing around there in that store stole the money 
out of the letter. See here ; it was sealed with 
that confounded new-fangled ' mucilage ' ; gum- 
stickum I call it. Anybody could feel those five 
bank-notes inside of the letter, and anybody 
could steam it open, take out the money, and 
seal it up again. We have been robbed." 

" Let 's go and see the heads of the house 
there at Osterhaus & Wickham's. They will see 
us righted," cried Sandy indignantly. " I won't 
stand it, for one." 

" No use," groaned Charlie. " We saw Mr. 
Osterhaus. He was very sorry — oh, yes! — 
awfully sorr)' ; but he did n't know us, and he 
had no responsibility for the letters that came to 
his place. It was only an accommodation to 
people that he took them in his care, anyhow. 
Oh, it 's no use talking ! Here we are, stranded 
in a strange place, knowing no living soul in the 
whole town but good old Younkins, and nobody 
knows where he is. He could n't lend us the 


money, even if we were mean enough to ask 
him. Good old Younkins ! " 

" Younkins! " cried Sandy, starting to his feet. 
" He will give us good advice. He has got a 
great head, has Younkins. I '11 go and ask him 
what to do. Bless me ! There he is now ! " 
for as he spoke, the familiar slouching figure 
of their neighbor came around the comer of a 
warehouse on the levee. 

" Why don't yer go aboard, boys ? The boat 
leaves at noon, and it 's past twelve now. I just 
thought I 'd come down and say good-by-like, 
for I 'm powerful sorry to have ye go." 

The boys explained to the astonished and 
grieved Younkins how they had been wrecked, 
as it were, almost in sight of the home port. 
The good man nodded his head gravely as he 
listened, softly jingled the few gold coins in his 
trousers' pocket, and said, " Well, boys, this is 
the wust scald I ever did see. If I was n't so 
dreadful hard up, I 'd give ye what I 've got." 

" That 's not to be thought of, Mr. Younkins," 
said Charlie, with dignity and gratitude, " for we 
can't think of borrowing money to get home 
with. It would be better to wait until we can 
write home for more. We might earn enough 
to pay our board." And Charlie, with a sigh, 
looked around at the unsympathetic and hur- 
rying throngs. 

" You 've got baggage as security for your 
passage to St. Louis. Go aboard and tell the 
clerk how you are fixed. Your pa said as how 
you would be all right when you got to St. Louis. 
Go and ' brace' the clerk." 

This was a new idea to the boys. They had 
never heard of such a thing. Who would dare 
to ask such a great favor ? The fare from Leav- 
enworth to St. Louis was twelve dollars each. 
They had known all about that. And they 
knew, too, that the price included their meals 
on the way down. 

" I '11 go brace the clerk," said Sandy stoutl\- ; 
and before the others could put in a word he 
was gone. 

The clerk was a handsome, stylish-looking 
man, with a good-natured countenance that re- 
assured the timid boy at once. Mustering up 
his waning courage, Sandy stated the case to 
him. telling him that that pile of trunks and 
guns on the levee was theirs, and that they 



would leave it on board when they got to St. 
Louis until they had found their uncle and 
secured the money for their fares. 

The handsome clerk looked sharply at the 
lad while he was telling his story. " You 've 
got an honest face, my Uttle man. I '11 trust 
you. Bring aboard your baggage. People spar 
their way on the river every day in the year ; 
you need n't be ashamed of it. Accidents will 
happen, you know," and the busy clerk turned 
away to another customer. 

With a light heart Sandy ran ashore. His 
waiting and an.xiously watching comrades saw 
by his face that he had been successful, before 
he spoke. 

" That 's all fixed," he cried blithely. 

" Bully boy ! " said Younkins admiringly. 

" Car' yer baggage aboard, boss ? " asked the 
lively young darky. 

" Take it along," said Sandy, with a lordly 
air. They shook hands with Younkins once 
more, this time with more fervor than ever. 
Then the three lads filed on board the steam- 
boat. The gang-plank was hauled in, put out 
again for the last tardy passenger, once more 

taken aboard, and llien the stanch steamer 
New Lucy was on her way down the turbid 

" Oh, Sandy," whispered Charlie, " you gave 
that darky the last cent we had for bringing our 
baggage on board. We ought to have lugged 
it aboard ourselves." 

" Lugged it aboard ourselves ? And all these 
people that we are going to be passengers with 
for the next four or five days watching us while 
we did a roustabout's work ? Not much." 

Charlie was silent. The great stem- wheel of 
the New Lucy revolved with a dashing and a 
churning sound. The yellow banks of the Mis- 
souri sped by them. The sacred soil of Kansas 
slid past as in a swiftly moving panorama. One 
home was hourly growing nearer, while another 
was fading away there into the golden autumnal 

" We don't ' cross the prairies as of old our 
fathers crossed the sea,' any more ; do we, Char- 
lie ? " said Oscar. 

" No," said the lad. " We may or may not 
be here to see it ; but Kansas will be the home- 
stead of the free, for all that. Mind what I say." 


{J True Story.) 

Bv Caroline Evans 

In little Daisy's dimpled hand two bright, new pennies shone ; 
One was for Rob (at school just then), the other Daisy's ow-n. 
While waiting Rob's return she rolled both treasures round the floor. 
When suddenly they disappeared, and one was seen no more. 
Poor Daisy. Is your penny lost ? " was asked in accents kind. 
Why, no, tiiiiic 's here ! " she (|uickly said. " 1 1 '.s Rob's 1 cannot fint 

A O^y 

You boys and girls 
of the country, with 
your shaded lawns and grassy commons, your 
fields and woods, tell me, did you ever think how 
the boys and girls of cities exist without ever a 
sight of nature's playgrounds ? I do not mean 
your little city cousins who visit you when the 
leaves come, or who flee to the seashore with 
the first breath of summer. I mean the real 
city boys and girls to whom the word "country" 
is only a name, and whose ideas of a rolling 
lawn are ever associated with a warning to 
"keep off! " 

Just think of it, the grass, which was surely in- 
tended for running and jumping, wrestling and 
tumbling, base-ball and cricket, and almost every 
sport known to boyhood, is for them only a thing 
to be looked at and wished for in vain ! 

Now, without all your great natural advan- 
tages, what is it these city children do ? Don't 
imagine they do not play, for th^y do. They 
play every game that you know, and probably 
])lay some of them even better — a true state- 
ment, though you may question it. Play is as 
natural and necessary for children as it is for 
kittens. The life, the animation of youth, must 
find physical expression. The body outgrows 
the brain ; the mind as yet demands but a small 
]iart of the rapidly increasing strength; hands 
and arms, feet and legs, are safety-valves for the 
escape of the rest. 

Because the playground of these city boys 
and girls is restricted to a cobbled street, do 
you suppose they are going to forfeit one of 
the rights of youth ? Not at all. The crowded 
condition of our thoroughfares and the whole 

force of city policemen cannot restrain their 
inborn instinct for play. 

Come with me from your boundless fields, 
and after watching these unknown kin of yours 
at their games, tell me frankly whether you, with 
the same difficulties to encounter, could do one 
half so well. I will take you to a west-side 
street, uptown in New York ; I pass through it 
daily, and there have seen the sights you and I 
may witness together. It is a very busy street. 
Two lines of horse-cars pass through it, and a 
railway terminus at the river adds largely to the 
number of passing vehicles. Let us stroll (juietly 
up and down this one block. Here tenement 
houses stretch in one unbroken line from 
avenue to avenue. It is not unusual to see 
here, on pleasant afternoons, and counting only 
one side of the street, from sixty to eighty chil- 
dren, all under fifteen years of age. I have 
counted ninety-six. So you see we shall have 
plenty of players for any game you may mention. 

We will take no note of the workers, worthy 
as they may be of our attention. You will see 
them of all sizes, doing everything boys of then- 
ages can do, from the very little, barefooted 
youngster scarcely tall enough to catch the 
railing of a passing car and swing himself aboard 
with his bundle of daily papers, to the larger 
boy carrying a bootblack's outfit on his back. 
They are workers, and in their work have little 
in common with you. We have come to see 
how boys and girls can play your field-games 
in this crowded city street. 

First, let us notice the girls. Their quieter 
games do not meet with the drawbacks which 
beset those of their brothers. Steps, doorways. 



and sidewalks form their play- 
grounds. Here they .sit and 
chatter, or, with their " babies," 
l)romenade up and down in 
ijuaint imitation of their elders. 
But their " babies " are not all 
of wa.\ or of china, and per- 
haps many a little daughter 
finds carrying a baby brother 
or sister almost as large as she 
is, too realistic to be called 
play. Neither are the baby- 
carriages all " make-believe " ; 
and the beautiful, pinkcheeked, 
blue-eyed, golden-haired dolly, 
in brightly colored dress, places 
in sad contrast the poorly clad, 
sickly looking infant riding at 
her side. 

Seated in a doorway you 
will see a group deep in the 
mysteries of jack-stones, which 
with girls takes the place of 
■' mumblety-peg"; or, in some 
spot not directly in the way 
of passers-by, a small party is 
making one of the unending 

visits to " Miss Virginia Jones," 
who receives them with dignity 
befitting the occasion. There 
are many things these girls do ; 
they race hoops, and skip ropes ; 
they play house, of course, and 
have " company " ; and are very 
earnest and serious about it all. 
But most of their games are 
far be}ond my understanding, 
though perhaps you other girls 
might find nothing puzzling in 

With the boys' games I am 
more at home. Let us see 
whether you will not leam from 
these boys some games to take 
to your friends out of town. 

First and foremost comes 
base-ball. If any one doubts the 
universal popularity of this game, 
one afternoon upon this street 
will convince him that the Amer- 



ican boys' love of base-ball has become hered- 
itary. It seems almost as if these boys no 
sooner left the cradle than a base-ball found 
its way into their hands. They commence 
to play as soon as they can roll a ball across 
the pavement. From a real game, ivith nine 
'•men" on a side and three bases, we shall 
see everj'thing in ball-playing, down to the 
solitary youngster who rolls the ball up an 
awning and catches it as it returns to him. And 
these boys can play 
base-ball, too. I hesi- 
tate to admit it, for I 
was a country bo\' ; 
but I '11 warrant you 
that from the inhabi- 
tants of that block I 
can select nine boys, 
none of whom shall 
be over ten years of 
age, who can defeat 
the best nine of thir- 
teen-year-old fellows 
your village can pro- 

They play in the 
streets ; they play on 
the sidewalk ; and 
they go at it with a - ^~ 

vim and earnestness ' '^ ' ^.■■-^- 

one grows enthusias- 
tic in watching. The\' 
pitch '• curves," and 

why their catchers' little j 

intent and maskless little faces are not more 
frequently damaged by the bat they '-catch off" 
of, no one can say. All this, remember, on the 
cobblestones, with slippery car-tracks dividing 
the " field," and wagons, drays, and cars con- 
stantly passing. On any field, a quick and 
practised eye is required to measure the arc of 
a " fly ball," and to select the spot from which 
it may be captured ; but when the ground is a 
crowded street, and there is added the more or 
less rapidly passing vehicle, the chances are 
even that the fielder may get under a horse's 
hoofs and the descending " fly " at the same 
time. Many narrow escapes have I seen, but 
somehow the active little bodies always manage 
to be missed. 

But the cars and wagons and pedestrians are 
as nothing ; the players look out for the former 
two, the last must care for themselves if they 
wish to avoid a batted ball or a runner making 
a frantic dash for " first." What these boys 
really mind, because it is an effectual preventive 
of ball-playing, is the blue-coated policeman, 
known by the boys as a " cop," an abbrevia- 
tion of " copper." the origin of which name is 


Here is a game in active progress; there is 
intense excitement ; shouts of encouragement 
fill the air. Turn away your head for an instant, 
now look again. Where are our players ? Xot 
one of them to be seen ; only a few boys stroll- 
ing along the sidewalk; not a bat nor ball in 
sight. What does it all mean ? Truly, you ha\e 
never seen so abrupt an ending to a game of 
ball. But look ; coming up the street, a block 
or more away, in all the stateliness of blue uni- 
form and brass buttons, idly twirling his club, 
appears the awe-inspiring " copper." For you 
must remember that it is illegal to play base- 
ball in the street, and every player is liable to 
imprisonment. How would iw/ like to have 
one of your games so interrupted ? Is the 



game ended ? By no means ; wait a moment, 
this is only " time." Slowly the retreating blue- 
coat fades in the distance ; then like magic each 
player resumes his place, and the game is re- 
sumed with all its former ardor. 

Real base-ball, however, has been obliged to 
give way in a measure to ball-games more suited 
to the surroundings : ^^'e shall see, of course, 

all varieties of '• old cats," and an abundance 
of " fungoes " or, " batter up." But several sub- 
stitutes have been evolved, and these, I think, 
will be new to many of you. One bears some 
resemblance to cricket, and may be an imitation 
of that game. Two bricks are placed on the 
sidewalk, opposite each other and about four 
inches apart ; across them is laid a small stick 



six or eight inches in length. This constitutes 
a " wicket " before which the batsman stands. 
The bowler occupies the usual position and 
rolls the ball over the pavement at the wicket 
trying to dislodge the stick resting on the bricks. 
If the stick is dislodged, or the batsman is 
caught out, or is thrown out while running, 
a new batsman takes his place. In this game 
but one base, generally a neighboring telegraph- 
pole, is required. 

out, attempts to run to a base and return before 
the ball can be fielded " home." Interesting as 
we shall find this base-ball in its endless varia- 
tions, and fascinating as are these miniature 
but e.xpert little players, we must not spend all 
our time with them. 

Look above you at the telegraph-wires. 
Sooner or later they become the natural end of 
every kite flown in this street ; and the tattered 
fragments with which the wires are adorned 


Another and more singular game has for its 
foundation an ash-barrel. Across the top of 
this is placed a board two or three inches in 
width, which projects about the same distance 
over the rims of the barrel. On one of these 
projecting ends a ball is balanced ; the bats- 
man then takes his bat and with all his strength 
strikes the other end of the board. The ball 
flies up and away in a before-unknown direc- 
tion, and the batsman, should he not be caught 

bear witness that kite-flying is a popular pas- 
time, even if disastrous to the kites. In this 
sport you may fairly claim superiority. Com- 
paratively few of these boys know how to fly a 
kite ; they never seem able to manage the tail. 
Kites here can only be successfully flown from 
the house-tops, and we will not leave our street 
for a visit to so dangerous a resort. 

Marbles we shall see, of every kind, " mig- 
gles" and "alleys," "taws" and "agates." Gen- 



erally the games arc i)layL'd in a ring drawn 
with chalk on the sidewalk, for holes are not 
made or found here so easily as they are in your 

After every rain-storm there is an outbreak of 
" suckers." Do you know what a " sucker" is ? 
.\ circular piece of rather heavy leather, two or 
three inches in diameter, has a string passed 
through a hole in the center, and a large knot 
both stops up the hole and prevents the string 
from pulling through. For some unknown 
reason, " suckers " are at times very popular ; 
nearly every boy in the street has one, and the 
curbs will be dotted with figures soaking these 
leathern disks in the muddy water of the gutters. 
For, to be effective, the " sucker " must be thor- 
oughly moistened, when it becomes sufficiently 
pliable to adhere closely to the paving or cob- 
blestone upon which the boys pat it with their 

I J I' 

■'i-ln ; 

feet. The air being completely driven out from 
between the leather and stone, the pressure 
caused by the weight of the air is all from 
above, fourteen pounds of it to every .square 

inch of leather, .so you see that in theory they 
may carry the cobblestones with ease so far as 
the " sucker " is concerned. I confess I cannot 
see wherein the great popularity of this sport lies, 
unless it be that owing to slight irregularities in 
the surface of the leather the "sucker" rarely 
adheres with all its sucking-power, and for this 
reason it is considered quite a feat to carry a 
stone ten yards or more. So here arise the 
spirit of competition and desire to excel, which 
are the life and mainspring of every game. 

Should the rain-storm be unusually .severe, the 
overcharged sewers cannot convey the volume 
of water flowing into them, and the gutters 
develop into rushing brooklets, or occasionally, 
where there is a slight depression in the street, 
small ponds are formed. Now every boy 
becomes a sailor, and fleets of odd craft are 
launched in these muddy waters. At this time, 
too, they come as near 
bathing as they ever do, 
I fear. 

To pass from water to 
fire, these boys have one 
amusement which I hope 
you will not care to imi- 
tate. For lack of a better 
name I have called it 
" playing tinker." As in 
most of their games, the 
-"t" '' outfit for playing tinker is 
home-made, and consists 
of an old tin can with a 
^ , { bit of wire for a handle. 
I ^ As a source of supply, a 
- "^ bonfire is also necessary ; 
indeed, these are made 
^ whenever any combus- 

tible ' material can be 
gathered. Over and into 
these fires boys dash with 
'^ the confidence of sala- 

_ manders, but somehow 

always manage to escape 
being singed. From the 
ET. bonfire, '"the tinker" 

scrapes a mass of glowing coals into his pail, 
then holding it by the wire handle he swings 
it over his head, before him, behind him, in 
rapid circles, — you perhaps have done the same 



thing with a pail of water, — and when you see 
twenty or thirty boys whirling these fire-pails 
in the dusk of evening, and all of them yelling 
like little demons — why, you take the other 
side of the street as you 
walk to the ferry ! 

I suppose that we oc- 
casional pedestrians are 
\erv naturally regarded 
as trespassers, for is this 
not their playground and 
the only one they have ? 
Let us remember this, 
then, when we find our 
way impeded by a game 
of hop-scotch or " shin- 
ny " ; or when some nim- 
ble little fellow finds in 
us a convenient object 
around which to dodge 
in an attempt to escape 
the boy who is " it." 

But we cannot hope 
to see the games of a 
year in one afternoon, 
for there is a great natu- 
ral law which governs 
the times and seasons of 
boys' sports. What it is, 
no one can say ; but it is 
as regular in its workings 
as the laws which control 
the material universe. 

Is it instinct — an instinct like that of a 
migratory bird — which causes the simultaneous 
appearance of tops, marbles, or kites, through- 
out the town ? To-day not a marble is to be 
seen ; to-morrow every boy at school has his 
])Ockets filled. 

These children are undoubtedly happy in 
their play, but I cannot watch them without 
sadness and a regret that the fuller pleasures 
of a country life will never be theirs at the 
time they are best fitted to enjoy them. The 
earnest pleading for a leaf or blossom from 
the tlower-laden tourist as, returning from his 
outing, he passes up this street ; the eager band 
of merry children in pursuit of a wandering 
butterfly — fairy-like visitor from a strange land 
— tell of a formless longing for the unknown 

freedom of the woods and fields. What can 
we do to add to the joys of a youth which is 
all too brief? As you enter your high-school, 
these boys and girls enter on the serious duties 


of life. Then follows the struggle for e.xistence, 
and a severe one it usually is. 

We cannot give all these children homes in 
the country, we cannot give them all even an 
outing there; but we can give them playgrounds 
in the city; a very little plot here and there will 
do. We have reserved great parks and squares 
which we permit them to look at and some- 
times to venture on. But as playgrounds, these 
are practically useless ; they are accessible to 
comparatively few. A vacant building-lot in 
the proper district is far more to the purpose. 
Hai)py is the boy who lives near one ! Notice 
the evidences of constant use it .shows, the small 
base-ball " diamond " clearly outlined, every 
smooth place pitted with marble holes. 

What better investment could our cities make 



than to purchase small plots like this at inter- 
vals throughout the city, tear down the buihl- 
ings, fill up the cellars, and leave them, with no 
forbidding sign, ojien to the children ? Their 
little feet will soon grade and harden the ground. 

In giving the nation's future workers such an 
opi)ortunity to lay the foundation for stronger 
and healthier bodies and brighter wits, the city 
would reap abundant interest on the capital 


By Emily Dickinson. are the little beds," I asked, 
" Which in the valleys lie ? " 
Some shook their heads, and others smiled. 
And no one made reply. 

Perhaps they did not hear, I said, 

I will inquire again. 
Whose are the beds — the tiny beds 

So thick upon the plain ? " 

'T is daisy in the shortest ; 

A little further on, — 
Nearest the door, to wake the first,- 

Little leontodon. 

'T is iris, sir, and aster, 

Anemone and bell ; 
Batschia in the blanket red, 

And chubby daffodil." 

Meanwhile, at many cradles. 
She rocked and gently smiled. 

Humming the quaintest lullaby 
That ever soothed a child. 

Hush ! Epigea wakens ! 

The crocus stirs her hood, — 
Rhodora's cheek is crimson. 

She 's dreaming of the wood." 

Then turning from them, reverent, 
" Their bedtime 't is," she said ; 
■ The bumblebees will wake them 
When .\pril woods are red." 


IJv J. O. Davidsiin. 


Chapter III. As in fancy we follow the gull's rapid flight, 
we see that the object grows larger and larger 
till the sails and spars of a junk are defined. As 
Omitting from our record of events the the bird hovers above the junk, it is seen that 
occurrences of four days succeeding our last her sails are spread widely to the breeze as she 
chapter, we travel some three hundred miles lightly skims over the water with helm lashed 
southward from the scene there described, and fast.* The crew are at the gangway ; a plank 
find ourselves out of sight of land on the extends over the side, its inner end lashed fast 
China Sea. The hour is noon, and the day to the trunnions of a gun ; and surrounded by 
is one in that lovely time to the eye of a the natives are our friends, Frank, Herrick, 
sailor or an artist, the trade-wind season in the Proddy, and Kanaka Joe. They stand closely 
East. As far as the eye can reach, heaves and together, their arms are pinioned, their eyes 
rolls a vast expanse of bright blue water on blindfolded, and they sway unsteadily on their 
which a toy boat could sail straight away, day feet to the rolling of the junk ; while the crew 
after day on the same course, without a flaw in about them carry on an excited discussion, as is 
the changeless wind to disturb it. The pure shown by their threatening looks and drawn 
blue of the heavens is flecked with little feathery weapons. Evidently the pirate crew are dis- 
cloudlets like snowflakes, all drifting in end- cussing the fate of their captives, 
less procession toward the invisible distance " What are they fighting over now ? " growled 
where ocean, heaven, and clouds melt into one Herrick. " Can't they kill us and be done with 
broad band of warm, golden color, somewhere it at once, without all this sing-song palaver ? " 
within which lies the invisible horizon. No " All no wanchee kill us, Mr. Herrick," re- 
living thing disturbs the quiet of the scene, plied Joe. " Some wanchee take us their Cap- 
excepting the motionless frigate-bird, that rests tain, so he keep us. maybe, for plopper ransom." 
aloft on wide outstretched wings, close beneath " Golly ! " cried Proddy, with a sickly grin 
the clouds, and a white-winged gull (lone fisher- spreading over his dusky face, as he shook his 
man of the sea) sweeping in narrowing circles tightly bound arms, "we 's gone shore, dis time ! 
toward the water. The surface is broken now Who 's goin' to buy us thin scarecrows, Mas'r 
and then, as the gull falls with a heavy plunge Cap'n Frank ? " 

to rise again overburdened with a fish too large " Never mind, Proddy ; we should be glad 

to manage. Suddenly, while struggling upward, of any chance of life. Even future slavery is 

a shadow drops from heaven. There is a sharp better than being shot now; for ' while there is 

blow given, and the stunned gull drops its prey, life, there is hope,' " exclaimed Frank, who from 

But before the silvery fish can reach its waten,' sheer weakness was leaning on Herrick. 

home again, the noiseless frigate-bird falls upon 
the stolen jirey and soars tranquilly away with 
its prize. The frightened gull also flies hur- 
riedly off"; but, after a short flight, wheels to 
the left where a black speck appears on the 
ocean's rim. 

' The tra<le-\vinds are so steady and gentle that the natives often fasten the he] 
craft lo sail themselves for hours at a time. 

" Coolie no like shoot with powder, they say. 
We walk plank like white man, or hang maybe, 
they say," spoke up Joe, who had been quietly 
listening to the crew's noisy discussion. 

"Aye, aye, lads!" growled Herrick, as his 
elbow touched the end of the board on the gun, 
amidships, allowing their 

Vol. XVIIL— 45. 




" and here 's the plank we are to walk ! It 's too 
much of a dog's death," the old man resumed 
bitterly. " Better to have died like men, fighting 
in that cabin, with ten to one agin us, or to have 
been blown up with the junk, as I meant we 
should be, than to come to this ! " 

To be forced on the fatal plank, goaded along 
its bending length, pierced with sharp knives, 
and tortured until, in sheer agony, the last step 
is taken, to fall into the sea with pinioned arms 
and perish miserably — it was a fate to appal 
the boldest. 

" Work my hand loose, some of ye, and we '11 
die fighting yet ! " hissed Ben, as he turned so 
as to bring his wrists toward Proddy. 

" No, no ! " cried Joe, in a whisper ; " they no 
kill, now! They say they play toss-up-stick to 
see what luck -joss says. One side win, we die ; 
other side win, we live ! " 

" Golly ! me wish other side good luck for 
sure ! " exclaimed Proddy, earnestly. 

The crew then proceeded to decide the pris- 
oners' fate by chance. Ten of them squatted on 
the deck, five on a side, one row facing the 
other. Then one sailor, tossing up two short 
pieces of an ivory chop-stick, one of which was 
marked, caught one in each hand ; and held 
out his closed hands. A sailor of the opposite 
side guessed as to which hand held the marked 
stick, indicating his choice by pointing with the 
finger. If he guessed rightly, one point was 
scored for his side, and it became his turn to 
toss the sticks. After a given number of turns 
had been played the scores were reckoned, and 
the side having succeeded in winning the greater 
number of guesses won the game. 

For ten minutes the captives waited in a fear- 
ful suspense, while the game progressed. Ben 
had managed to slip the bandage from his eyes 
just as the game was decided. 

" Hooray, Mr. Frank, we 're safe ! " he 
shouted, seizing and shaking Frank's pinioned 
hand. The blow of a stick admonished him 
to be silent, and amid the jabbering of the dis- 
contented losers, and the mocking gibes of the 
wnning party, our friends were pushed roughly 
to the mast, and there fastened securely by 

" Well, if I ever saw the beat of this for a 
scrape ! " said Ben, after they had been left 

awhile to themselves. " We 've been 'most 
murdered by cannon, and by coolie knives ; 
and if my pistol had n't snapped in that 'ere 
powder-chest, we 'd all been blown to match- 
sticks, the night of the fight I We 've been 
nearly beaten to death since, and pretty nigh 
smothered down below, in this craft ; just missed 
walking the plank to Davy Jones, a moment 
ago ; and now here we are, trussed up to this 
mast. And I 'm that starved that I can almost 
feel my backbone from in front ! Ah ! Proddy, 
if we only had some of your plum-duff and 
skillygolee, we might brighten up a bit, under 
this ill luck. Ah ! that 's the ticket ! " he re- 
sumed joyfully ; and all looked up to find one 
of the crew bringing some rice and salt fish. 

The sailor set the food before them, and 
untied one hand of each of the prisoners so 
that they might help themselves to the food. 
After the scanty meal was finished, each was 
allowed to take a short walk along the deck. 

Chapter IV. 


In the evening a junk was sighted ; and 
this occurrence seemed for a time to cause the 
crew some uneasiness; but a nearer approach 
proved the craft to be no larger than their own, 
and they were reassured. Signals being made 
from their junk and remaining unanswered, the 
crew ran to their quarters and prepared for a 
fight if necessary. The vessel was put before 
the wind, and the larger sails were allowed to 
swing on both sides, presenting little mark to 
side shots, and as an additional precaution, sev- 
eral reefs were taken in the largest of them. 
Strong nettings were tied along the low bul- 
warks, to prevent boarding, and others were 
stretched overhead to catch falling blocks and 
splinters from aloft. The guns were then loaded 
and pointed, and a dozen heavy sweeps, or long 
oars, were run out. 

" .\ye, aye, they know their business, the ras- 
cals ! " said Ben grimly, as some of the crew 
now busied themselves soaking all the sails 
with a curiously contrived force-pump made of 

" They no wanchee fight," remarked Joe, who 
had watched the ])reparations for battle ; " V)ut 


if stranger junk strike first, then they fight 
quick ! " 

The prisoners were tied to the mast, and 
made to understand that any attempt to escape 
would be punished by death. The crew then 
lay down on the deck and awaited hostilities. 

By this time the two boats were close together, 
and a man on the stem of the strange junk began 
to beat a gong, and set off firecrackers, and 
throw out bits of burning paper which spluttered 
and crackled in the water. 

" Those other fellows not proper pirates ! " con- 
temptuously e.xclaimed Proddy ; " they coast- 
traders. Pirates no beat gong so-fashion, and 
no bum joss-paper for good luck." 

" Not pirates ! " replied Ben wrathfully ; " why, 
it 's my opinion there 's nothing but pirates in 
all these waters. Even the most cowardly 
fishing-junk turns thief as soon as- it meets 
another weaker than itself! Now look at those 
hypocrites, burning joss-papers and beating 
gongs, — praying to have the fight all their own 
way ! It may be better for us all if they do 
thrash the others, but I can't help hoping they 
will get well whipped for being so mean about 
it! If I only — "; but here he was interrupted 
by the report of a gun, and a shot came crash- 
ing through the junk's side and knocked down 
two of the crew. 

" Well aimed, that ! " growled Ben with grim 
satisfaction, " a yard more this way, though, and 
some of us Christians would have been done 
for ! " 

Another, and still another, shot came aboard, 
cutting ropes and knocking splinters about ; but 
still there was no reply from their own vessel. 
Frank and his friends began to be uneasy. 

" What keeps them so quiet ? " asked Frank. 
" We '11 be hit soon, if this keeps on ! " 

" Dey is up to some mischief, sure," replied 
Proddy. " Dat coolie capting berry smart man, 
Mas'r Aus'in. He know what he about ! " 

Sure enough, he did ; as they all soon per- 
ceived. The stranger, misled by the junk's 
silence, supposed her not to be well armed, and 
boldly approached her, with the crew massed 
well forward, prepared to board. Then the 
moment came for which the jiirates had been 
waiting. Their helm was thrown to port ; the 
head-sails came down by tlie run, the oarsmen 


bent to their work, and the junk wheeled about 
directly in front of her adversary, now but a 
few score yards distant. 

Without needing an order, the gunners sprang 
from the deck, cast oft" the gun-covers, and sent 
the charges of the six guns tearing through the 
crowded ranks of the foe, completely clearing 
of men their enemy's forward deck. The dis- 
charge of the cannons was followed by a volley 
from the small arms, and then began the throw- 
ing of small, round objects the purpose of which 
Frank did not understand. 

" Phew ! " he suddenly cried. '' What a hor- 
rible smell ! Ugh ! I 'm almost suffocated I " 

" You 'd be worse off", you 'd choke to death, 
if you were on the other craft ! " laughed Ben. 
" These rascals are firing chemicals, and it 's all 
up with those fellows yonder. The fumes from 
those chemicals are so suffocating that one can't 
stay near 'em; and when they get to burning 
they cannot be put out, even with water. See 
there, sir, how they are jumping overboard." 

When the smoke had cleared away, Frarik 
could see that the strange junk was in flames 
and rapidly sinking. The bow was torn to pieces, 
her sails were in tatters, while her sufl"ocating 
crew were being driven overboard by the deadly 
fumes of the burning compound. 

On board their own junk, the pirates were 
quietly securing the guns and setting the boat 
to rights without any apparent interest in the 
burning wreck or her drowning crew. 

As soon as everything was in order, the boat 
was put on her course again and sailed away, 
leaving her late assailants far astern, to save 
themselves as best they might. 

" That's as neat a bit of work as ever I saw ! " 
said Ben in a satisfied way. "Now just see 
what those wicked chaps have come to by trying 
to turn highway-robbers, instead of going about 
their own business!" 

" But why do they leave them, when they 
might have put the fire out, saved the boat and 
taken her cargo ? Do you suppose the strange 
junk, if stronger, would have left us in the 
same way ? " asked Frank, much puzzled. 

" No, sir, I hardly think that," said Ben. 
" You see, those chaps were after plunder, 
while our fellows wanted only to be left alone. 
They 've got this big boat and cargo, all safe 




and sure ; and most likely they reasoned that 
' a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' 
They 've hardly enough men to man two junks; 
so they just i)ut it out of the other rascals' power 
to do us any further mischief, and left 'em." 

'• But I noticed, Ben, that none of the other 
crew asked for quarter," Frank said, not yet 
satisfied. " They took everything so (luietly,— 
apparently as a matter of course." 

" Why, I believe, sir, those chaps are what you 
call — let me see, what 's the word? Fate — , 

" Fatalists ? " suggested Frank. 

" That 's it exactly, sir ; and they believe 
every one starts on his voyage of life with 
sealed orders, as it were ; so everything must 
come about just as it is ordered beforehand. 

Chapter V. 


The next morning's sun revealed a large, 
densely-wooded island close aboard ; and as 
our friends arose from their hard beds on the 
deck the crew were already busy in making 
preparations to land. 

The junk's bow pointed directly toward a 
jierpendicular cliff, upon the summit of which 
stood a tall, solitary palm-tree. In this cliflf, 
when seen from a distance, there appeared to 
be no opening ; but when almost under its 
overhanging crags a narrow deep cleft was 
seen. This break extended entirely through 
tlie cliff, revealing a deep, inner harbor com- 
pletely land-locked. A fresh breeze carried 



Those chaps reasoned that in spite of their fire- the junk swiftly through, and, firing a bow-gun. 

crackers they had been caught in a trap ; their the anchor was dropped and the sails run down 

joss-papers and prayers were no good; their from aloft. 

josses had gone back on 'em for trying to rob. Scarcely had the echoes of the gun's report 

and when luck goes against them, they often died away, when dozens of boats put off from 

give up just like that." the shore, where some wreaths of smoke were 


CHAN ok; a romanxe of the eastern seas. 




rising lazily above the tree-tops. Presently a 
number of natives came crowding over the side, 
and mingled with the crew. The new-comers 
uttered shouts of joy and congratulation at the 
safe arrival of the rich prize. Some went about 
the deck, examining the guns and rigging, while 
others dived down below to overhaul the cargo. 

Then another fleet of small boats ran along- 
side, and a motley crowd of men, women and 
children was added to the first; and before long 
all were engaged in removing the contents of 
the hold. 

Not the slightest notice was taken of the 
captives until all the cargo was removed. Then 
they were ordered into a canoe and swiftly 
paddled landward. As the canoe neared the 
beach, the mouth of a large river opened out, 
and behind the projecting point there appeared 
a large settlement of cane-thatched houses, all 
neatly fenced in and evidently kept in good 
order. Little gardens surrounded each house, 
while a cluster of much larger buildings near 
the center was inclosed in an open park. Off 
from the landing, in mid-stream, lay a number of 
large rakish-looking junks and proas, all heavily 
armed. One of these vessels gave evidence of 
a recent fight ; for about her were clusters of 
busy men, plugging up shot-holes in her sides 
and repairing her splintered masts. 

" Well, this beats all ! " said Ben, as they 
landed ; " it 's a regular hornets' nest of pirates. 
Why, these thieves must be making a regular 
business of robbery ! " Ben's further remarks 
were cut short by a rap from one of the guards. 

A short walk brought the prisoners to a long, 
low building, and being conducted inside and 
securely fastened, they were left there together. 
The shouts and cries heard from without testi- 
fied to the delight of the settlement over the 
new capture, and our friends hoped for better 
treatment in consequence of the general rejoic- 
ing. At nightfall their guards returned and, 
bidding the prisoners follow, led them after a 
short walk, to the center of the village. Here, 
entering a large building, they were ushered, 
bound together, into a fine hall, heavily draped 
with hangings of rich stuffs, and decorated with 
swords, shields, and various suits of Eastern 
armor. At the further end, on a slightly raised 
platform, was seated a personage who, from the 
respect shown him by all who stood about, could 
be none other than the pirate chief of this pirate 

For several moments there was complete 
silence ; and Frank had an excellent oppor- 
tunity to study the man who now held the cap- 
tives' fate in his hands. Frank expected to see 
a warrior, of commanding presence, brilliant 




dress, and certainly of ferocious aspect ; but to 
his surprise, he saw that this person was of small 
stature, with delicate hands, and a beardless, 
amiable face ; in short, one who might be taken 
for a mild-tempered, and even an efteminate 
youth. And although the guards and officers 
about him were richly and elaborately appar- 
eled, their chieftain's dress was simple in the 

.^fter quietly regarding our friends for a few 
moments, he spoke in an undertone to one of 
his officers who was standing in shadow. The 
official stepped forward to reply. Frank started ; 
for there before him stood a " Chinese mer- 
chant " who had engaged passage in Frank's 
vessel on its last trip ! 

"Aye, that 's the rascal ! " whispered Ben, who 
had recognized the man at the same moment. 

The chief now turned to Frank and said, 
" My lieutenant tells me^ sir, that you were the 
captain of the junk he has just sent in ; and that 
instead of throwing you overboard as is cus- 
tomary with useless prisoners, he prevailed on 
his men to spare your life in the hope of secur- 
ing a ransom from your friends in Hong Kong. 
I wish to know what we may expect for your 
release, or whether he has saved your life for 

Frank could not help a slight shudder, as he 
heard his death spoken of in this business-like, 
matter-of-fact way, but prompdy answered the 
chief : 

" I cannot tell how much they will pay for us, 
sir, but — " 

" Us ? Whom do you mean by ' us ' ? " 
asked the chief, abruptly interrupting the young 

" My men, here," answered Frank, motioning 
toward Ben, Joe, and Proddy. 

" Why, those sailors are fit only for slaves ! " 
exclaimed the chief, coolly. " Here, take these 
fellows away ! " 

At his command the three other captives were 
at once removed by the guard, and Frank was 
left alone before the pirate. 

" Now, sir, go on," said the young pirate, " and 
be quick. How much can you promise for your 
release ? " 

" You are welcome," replied Frank, boldly, 
" to all I have to my credit at the Victoria 

Bank ; but I cannot promise more from the 
company. They may pay something for the of the men, and unless they are included, 
I decline to name any sum for my own freedom. 
They are brave men. They have stood by me 
at the risk of their lives, and fought for mc, and 
I shall not desert them." 

" Humph ! " ejaculated the chief, as he eyed 
Frank sternly. " I lost some of my best hands 
through you and your crew, and now your men 
shall pay me back with their labor. As for you, 
I will give you till to-morrow to decide whether 
you will write to your friends for ransom, or re- 
main here with your men, to work as a slave." 

" I shall have no other answer to give ' " re- 
plied Frank firmly. 

" Remove him ! " ordered the chief, and the 
face hitherto so mild now showed all the signs 
of a hasty and ungovernable temper. The 
young captain noted the cruel lines about the 
tightly compressed lips of the pirate, and under- 
stood the savage nature of the man into whose 
power he had fallen. Then, with gloomy fore- 
bodings, he returned to his prison. 

About midnight, Ben, Joe, and Proddy stag- 
gered in and threw themselves on the floor, 
utterly exhausted from several hours of heavy 
toil under the blows of their cruel task-masters. 

" It 's a pretty bad business, Mr. Frank," 
said Ben slowly, after a long silence. '■ Wh\-, 
they worked us like dogs — and Joe heard 'em 
say that if we did n't fetch a good price, we 
were to be sent inland, to work on the rice- 
plantations. If that 's so, we will stand no 
chance whatever, for the climate inland is sure 
death to foreigners ! " 

" I hardly think the chief is so merciless as 
that," replied Frank, with a show of cheerful- 
ness. " No doubt he is a pirate and thief, but 
he does not seem to be a man who would be 
guilty of wanton cruelty." 

"Well, then you are deceived by his looks," 
said Ben ; " for, judging from what Joe heard 
of him, he 's the most cold-hearted, blood- 
thirsty wretch in the Eastern seas. And, in 
spite of his gentle manners, there 's not a 
man under his command would any more dare 
disobey his orders than dare play with the 
lightning 1 Why, they said one of his lieu- 
tenants ran away with a captured junk, last 


year, intending to start in the business for him- 
self; and this quiet chap followed him all the way 
to the Malacca Straits, ran him aboard right 
under the guns of a Portuguese fort, and sunk the 
lieutenant's junk with one broadside ! At another 
time they say that he landed on one of the lit- 
tle Sumatra Islands and destroyed an entire 
fishing-village, just because it had failed in its 
yearly tribute of dried fish, — although he knew 
it was only because they had had a bad season 1 
Aye, he 's a pleasant-looking rascal, with that 
quiet smile of his ; but I suppose he has to be 
cruel, or he could n't manage the set of cut- 


piracy-trade out of pure perverseness. He car- 
ries on a regular business, I 've heard, with certain 
ports on the mainland, and sails his stolen goods 
into port twice a year, just as if he were an 
honest trader. He 's making a great fortune 
by it. Oh ! piracy is considered a genteel way 
of making a living, hereabouts ! " concluded 
Ben dryly. 

" But why don't they break up the traffic ? " 
asked Frank indignantly. 

" Well," said the old man, " foreign powers 
try to ; but these chaps have their paid spies 
and agents in every port. The oflicials, also, 

throats about him. It is said he's the son of a 
rich merchant in the Malay country. His father 
sent him to India to be educated like a Euro- 
pean, but he was so spoilt by indulgence that 
nothing but having his own way in everything 
would do. As honest people would not stand 
his nonsense, he ran away and took to the 

are accused of secretly favoring them. At all 
events, if any expedition goes after them, the 
pirates seem to learn all about it, either through 
their spies or the officials themselves, in plenty 
of time to sail away to other ports." 

.\fter a few more words the tired prisoners fell 
asleep on their mats. 

( To bi continued.) 

Black-eyed Sue : 
Oh, leave your stupid 
meadow, do. 
And just for once try 
my way : 

Pull up your roots, dear, every one. 
And plant yourself as I have done. 
Along the busy highway. 

' You see life here ! And more than that, 
You 're seen, yourself It must be flat. 

Beyond all computation, 
To grow unnoticed hour by hour — 
One might as well not be a flower 

As win no admiration I " 

But Black-eyed Susan answered back 
That as she 'd never felt the lack. 

And all her tastes were suited 
With birds and butterflies and bees, 
And other such simplicities. 

She 'd stav where she was rooted. 

Now listen, children, while I tell 
The fate that Bouncing Bet befell. 

By highways dry and dusty ; 
While meadow-blossoms still were 

Her pinky bloom had faded white, 

Her leaves were brown and rusty. 

And people passed her where she grew 
And went to look for Black-eyed Sue, 

As might have been expected : 
Her yellow blossoms in a vase 
\\'on everybody's smiling praise — 

And i)Oor Bet drooped neglected ! 




By Alice Wellington Rollins. 

It is really a lovely garden. Never were 
there whiter lilies, nor bluer violets, nor more 
interesting pansies. 

But it needs something. I think it is bees. 

For bees are so picturesque ! And then the 
hives ! — the hives are as picturesque as the bees 
themselves. Apple-trees without beehives under 
them are as forlorn as lilies without bees over 

So we bought some beautiful hives, and placed 
them in the orchard, just on the edge of the gar- 
den. Soon they began to be filled with delicious 
honey in dear little white cells ; but the bees 
were nowhere to be seen. Every morning they 
disappeared, flying far out of sight, and the lilies 
and roses were as forlorn as ever. We had the 
credit of having bees, for every one could see 
the hives and taste the honey ; but we did not 
have the bees. 

So one morning I went out and talked to 
them about it. 

" Dear bees," I said, " what is it that you 
miss in the garden ? Every morning you fly 
away ; but where can you find whiter lilies, or 
bluer violets, or more interesting pansies ? " 

" We are not looking for whiteness, or blue- 
ness, or interestingness," the bees explained. 
" We are looking for honey ; and the honey is 
better in the clover-field that is only a mile 

" Oh ! if that is all," I exclaimed gladly. 
"Pray don't have the honey on your minds — " 

" We don't," they said. " We carry it in 
little bags." 

" I mean, don't mind about the honey — " 

" Certainly not ; how could we, when we 
have n't any minds ? " 

" But please don't feel obliged to hunt for 
honey. I don't care at all for honey ; that is," 
I added hastily, as a slight buzzing made me 
fear that perhaps I had hurt their feelings, " I 
like you, you know, for yourselves alone, not 
for what you can give me. The honey is de- 
licious, but we can buy it very nice at the gro- 
cer's. If you like honey for yourselves, I will 
buy some, and fill the hives for you, so that 
you need n't work at all, if you will only stay 
in the garden, and hover over the Hlies, and — 
and — be picturesque." 

They promised to try. And they did try. 
Whenever I looked from my library windows, I 
could see them practising their hovering, and 
they really hovered extremely well. Satisfied 
that my garden was at last complete, I gave up 
watching it, and devoted myself to literary work. 
Every morning I seated myself at the desk and 
wrote rapidly till noon. But one day I was 
interrupted by a bee. 

He had flown in at the window. Perching 
himself on the lid of the inkstand, he waited 
awhile ; then at last asked quietly : 

'• Why are you not out of doors this beautiful 
morning ? The garden is lovely ; I cannot 
see — " and he glanced critically at the vases 




about the room — " I cannot see that these lilies 
here are any whiter, or the violets any bluer, or 
the pansies any more interesting than those out 
there. And we miss you. A garden really 
ought to have people walking about in it. That 
is what gardens are for. I don't see why we 
must be out there to be seen, when there is 
nobody to see us." 

'• But, dear bee, I am not looking for flowers 
this morning ; I am writing." 

" And what are you writing ? " 

" A sonnet." 

" Are there no sonnets to be had at the 
stores ? " 

" Oh, yes ! Shakspere's, and Milton's, and 
Wordsworth's, of course." 

" And are your sonnets better than Shaks- 
pere's ? " 

"Why, of course not." 

" Then let your sonnet go. Come out in the 
garden with us, and on the way home I '11 buy 
you a sonnet at the store; a Shakspere son- 
net. — the very best in the market." 

■■ But, you see, I want to try making a sonnet 
of my own." 

" Very well ; let me see you try." 

I took up the pen again, and was soon ab- 
sorbed in my rhymes and rhythm. Indeed, 
I had quite forgotten that the bee was there, 
till he stirred uneasily and finally sighed. 

" Are you not happy in the garden ? " I asked. 

" Not ver)-." 

" But why not ? Have n't you all the liberty 
you want ? " 

" No ; we have every liberty except the liberty 
we want." 

"And that is — " 

" The liberty to work. We find that it is n't 
lilies ; it is n't clover ; it is n't honey ; it 's making 
the honey that we like. It is n't even making 
the honey for you, that we care so much about ; 
because, you see, you don't like honey ; it 's 
just making it." 

" I don't understand. I can't see how any- 
body can really like to work." 

" But we do. Suppose you finish your son- 
net, while I try to think over a few arguments 
to present to you later." 

So again I took up the pen, and again I 
was soon happily absorbed, and had entirely 

forgotten the poor bee, till I heard him .say 
wearily : 

" It does n't seem to be very ea,sy to write 
a sonnet." 

" \o," I exclaimed enthusiastically, " it is n't 
at all easy. That is the charm of it. Anybody 
can write some kind of verse, but very few peo- 
ple can write sonnets. There are a great many 
rules for making a sonnet ; you can only have 
just so many lines, and just so few rhymes, and 
the sentiment must change in just such a place, 
and very few people have the patience for it. 
Even Shakspere did not keep to the severest 
style of sonnet." 

"And are you trying to obey all the rules?" 

" Yes." 


" Why, for the fun of it. It is so interesting 
to see whether one can do it." 

" But it must be awfully tedious ; and from 
your own account, you are really working harder 
over it than you need to." 

'• Only because it is a great deal more inter- 
esting to do a thing well than just to do it. Let 
me read you something from Wordsworth's 
sonnet about the sonnet. He says : 

In truth the prison unto which we doom 
Ourselves no prison is ; 

meaning that, if we are willing to take pains, 
there is a great deal of enjoyment in working 
hard over a thing, even if it is a very small thing. 
He gives a great many comparisons, about nuns 
being contented with their narrow convents, and 
hermits in their cells, and students in their libra- 
ries, and weavers at the loom ; and here, oh, here, 
is an allusion to you, dear bee ; he tells how — 

— Bees that soar for bloom. 
High as the highest peak of Furness-fells, 
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells. 

That is just what you meant, is n't it ? — that 
you are one of those he speaks of who ' have felt 
the weight of too much liberty ' ? " 

" Yes, that is what I meant ; but I think I 
said it better than he says it. If it is a fine 
thing to say what you mean in just fourteen 
lines, why is n't it a finer thing to say what you 
mean in fourteen words ? And really it seems 
to me that I put the whole of his sonnet into 


saying that it is not for the honey that I care, 
nor for the sonnet that you care ; but the fun of 
the work." 

'■ The fun of the work ! That is a new idea, — 
but I believe you are right." 

" Of course I am right. Sweetness is all very 
well, but I should think it would be very tire- 
some just to be sweet, like a flower ; I 'd rather 
be a bee, and have to hunt for the sweetness." 

'• And I 'd rather be a human being and have 
to make things sweet. For, after all, if a bee 
does n't find any sweetness, he can't have any, 


while people can make it for themselves. Do 
you know, by the way, that you have given me 
a splendid subject for a poem ? " 

'• Perhaps I have. But if you will excuse me, 
I will be off to the clover-field ; and my advice 
to you is, if you must write a poem, try to put 
it in four lines, instead of fourteen." 

So I tried, and this is the poem : 

Sweetness in being sweet, that 's for the flowers ; 
Sweetness in finding sweets, that's for the bee ; 
Sweetness in making sweet sorrowful hours, 
That is the sweetness for you and for me. 


Bv Hannah Coddington. 

Daisy, Daisy Dimpledew ! 

May I take a walk with you? 
Fields are dotted o'er with flowers, 

Days are full of sunny hours, 
What then could we better do ? — 

Boy of eighty, girl of two. 

Daisy, Daisy Dimpledew! 

I am now a child like you. 
You are tiny, I am large. 

Fairy pinnace, heavy barge — 
You shall " map the course," I '11 go 

Quite content to be " in tow." 

Daisy, Daisy Dimpledew ! 

You would wander all day through ; 
I must " port my helm," and " tack," 

Or the woods you will ransack. 
Hearts grow young, but limbs grow old, 

Little captain, pilot bold ! 

Daisy, Daisy Dimpledew ! 

You are brave enough for two — 
On the ocean of the world. 

Rides your bark with sails unfurled. 
While I creep along the shore. 

With my ventures almost o'er. 

Daisy, Daisy Dimpledew ! 

You 're a comrade loyal, true ; 
Sweetest sinner, naughty saint. 

Heavenly thinkings, speeches quaint ! 
Grandpa's sweetheart ! this you are. 

Though you 've lovers near and far. 


By Walter Storks Bigelow. 


On summer vacation afternoons, we used to 
meet in my uncle's side yard ; and the low front 
fence, made of short posts connected by smooth, 
white beams six inches square, sagged beneatli 
a row of boys enjoying the shade of full-leaved 
maple-trees that hned the street. Those fence- 
beams were not set in corner-ways, presenting 
a sharp edge to sit on, but were thoughtfully 
placed sidewise, and thus made a most inviting 

After two hours of standing and sitting and 
lying around, such as only boys are capable of, 
while waiting till the July sun had slid well down 
the west, we adjourned with one accord, yet at 
no perceptible signal, like a flock of birds rising 

out of the grass together, to the "swimming- 
hole." In groups of three and four, a dozen 
or more of us, we loitered down the shady side- 
walk to a certain gate. This gate we vaulted 
(by preference, for it opened easily), and strolled 
along a green lane to its end. There, before 
climbing the rail fence at this point, we often 
paused a moment, Hke the young epicures we 
were, to look at a tree of little red ajjples from 
which we would help ourselves on our return, 
hungry from the bath. 

One wide meadow lay between the fence and 
the swimming-hole, which was a place in the 
stream worn deep at one side by the current, 
though it was shallow at the other side. At this 
spot a great tree grew out over the water. The 
older boys would dive in above this tree, and, 



as they came up, seize its lower boughs, climb 
like young monkeys to the trunk, and walk down 
it to the ground. 

Through the meadow, half-way between the 
rail fence I spoke of and the swimming-hole, 
ran a little brook. The direct way over this 
brook was at a point where it was about three 
feet deep. Here a young tree, perhaps eight 
inches in diameter, torn up by some high wind, 
had been laid across with its branching roots on 
the side toward the swimming-hole. Not far 
down, the brook became suddenly shallow and 
was forded on stepping-stones. 

At this place the line was sharply drawn be- 
tween the little boys and the big boys. The 
big boys walked the tree-bridge, but the little 
boys hopped across on the stepping-stones. 
Since to be considered a little boy was a dis- 
grace, fear alone prevented those who did not 
walk the tree. One fatal day I determined to 
bear the stigma, " little boy," no longer. I 
spoke to no one of my resolution, but when we 
reached the brook that afternoon, I waited until 
several of the larger boys had crossed, and then 
started boldly over on the tree. 

Distracting yells and cries of, " You 're in ; 
you 're in ! " arose from both banks, but I kept 
discreetly silent, and stepped bravely on. As I 
neared the other side 1 firmly grasped one of 
the projecting roots of the tree on which I stood, 
and now, thinking myself safe, as I heard once 
more the cry, " You 're in ; you 're in ! " exult- 
ingly replied, " Aj/i I ?" But just then the root 
acted like a lever in my hand, and turned the 
trunk beneath my feet. In falling, I whirled 
completely round, facing the way I had come. 
When my feet touched bottom, I was off my 
balance in water breast-high. I stretched out 
both arms, and in a wild attempt to regain an 
equilibrium, plunged desperately through the 
water until I reached the shore whence I had so 
valiantly set forth, and drew myself out, soaked 
and heavy, on the bank, looking like a drowned 

I got no nearer the swimming-hole that day. 
And on many a day after I was treated to a 
clever mimicry of my performance, and heard 
from the lips of relentless boys : 

" ' You 're in ; you 're in ! ' '-•//// I ? ' Ka-souze ! 
Ka-souze ! " 


"Jump in, Frank; you '11 never learn till you 

Frank was tall for his age, which was about 
my own. He was awkward and heavy, and de- 
clared he never c/?i//d learn to swim. I was a 
pretty good swimmer for a small boy, taking 
naturally to the water — though not often against 
my will, as on the day I first tried to cross the 
brook by means of the tree bridge. Frank was 
a careless, good-humored boy, not very deep, 
which perhaps accounted for his preference for 
shallow water. He looked so ridiculous wading 
and paddling around with urchins half his size 
in the riffles above the " hole," that it was no 
wonder that we laughed at the sight, and 
finally egged him on to make an attempt to 

From tlie day he first tried it he never waded 
with the little boys again. But his struggles in 
deep water were funnier than his paddling in the 
riffles. He would walk back some distance from 
the bank, turn and run to the water's edge, leap 
wildly into the air, and descend feet first, out of 
sight with a great splash. In a moment up he 
would come to the surface spluttering and gasp- 
ing, and beating the water into foam about him 
with arms and legs, like the paddles of a patent 
churn. The current would carry him swiftly 
under the tree that projected over the stream, 
and he would clutch the low-hanging boughs 
like a drowning man, drag himself out upon the 
trunk, and thence get ashore. He was at no 
time in danger, for the stream was shallow just 
below, and had he missed his hold on the tree 
he would have been stranded in a moment where 
the water was not a foot deep. Day after day 
we boys stood on the bank and waited for the 
" circus " to begin when Frank was ready for his 
"swim." He came past us on a double-quick, 
elbows down, features set and eyes starting 
with determination, and then we witnessed, 
with shrieks of laughter, that ungainly, sprawl- 
ing leap. For an instant he hung as if sus- 
pended, turned half over, and then came down 
like a lead image. 

Early one morning Frank, Ed Bristol, and I 
started out on a fishing-excursion down the 
creek. We were all appropriately dressed in the 



oldest clothes that we could still get into; though 
Frank, having " sprouted " fast, looked more than 
the rest like a scarecrow, for his gaunt wrist- 
bones showed below his sleeves, and there was 
a wide gap between the tops of his shoes and 
the legs of his trousers. But he was the proud 
wearer of a new twenty-five-cent straw hat, with 
very wide brim, which made up for shortcomings 
elsewhere. We fished till noon along the bank, 
without much success, I must admit. Then we 
sat down and transferred to our empty stomachs 
the lunch we had carried thus far in a basket, 
and after a little rest kept on down stream. 

About the middle of the afternoon we reached 
a spot unfamiliar to us all. The creek here wi- 
dened and deepened, and was overhung with wil- 
low-trees that cast a delicious shade upon the 
water. " Let 's go in smmming," suggested 
Frank. But, in my opinion, Frank's swimming 
was not so well suited to this place as to one 
where he would be less dependent on his own 
skill, and I tried to dissuade him, but in vain. 
He was determined, and commenced to unlace 
liis shoes at once ; so I, who was ready enough 
for my own part, followed his example. Ed's 
mother had said he must not go in that day, 
and like a good boy he stayed on land. This 
I soon had reason to regret, for he was nearly 
Frank's size, and I was less than two-thirds as 

Frank's swimming powers seemed to have 
increased for the occasion. His plunges were 
less frantic than before, and when he came up 
he struck out boldly, and scrambled on the bank 
with little trouble. To vary the programme, I 
jjut on Frank's new broad-brimmed hat, and 
dived with it. Of course, when I rose it was 
drawn by the water well down around my head 
and shoulders, but I swam with one hand and 
pulled it off with the other. Frank, elated by 
his own prowess, announced that he would per- 
form the same feat. We both tried to prevent 
this, and warned him of the danger, but he 
laughed and said he knew his own business, 
crowded the hat on tight, and jumped in. I 
stood on the bank with Ed, and watched anx- 
iously for his reappearance. Soon up he came, 

( To br CO 

impeded as I had been, by the broad brim of 
his hat. This confused him, as I had feared, 
antl threw him into a panic, for he could neither 
see nor breathe. His arms struck out aimlessly, 
and smothered cries of " Help ! help I " came 
from under that miserable hat. 

I felt like a harbor-tug called on to save a 
sinking ocean steamer. All I had ever heard 
about the death-grip of a drowning man came 
into mind ; but I jumped in, swam warily 
around, back of the helpless boy, and seized him 
under the arms. Kicking out rapidly with all 
the strength in my short legs, I succeeded in 
propelling him within reach of Ed, who pulled 
him out. When I had follow^ed, I chanced to 
see that hat some distance down the stream, and 
watched it float slowly out of sight around a 

Frank soon recovered, and dressed himself 
with our assistance. Thus far he had said no 
word of thanks to me. I had read of )ouths 
saving the lives of strange young ladies, who 
afterward gave their hands, and incidentally 
their fortunes, to their brave preservers. But 
this was not a parallel case, and words were all 
I expected in payment, when Frank's .senses 
cleared. Just as we were about to start for 
home, Frank put his hand to his head, full re- 
collection seemed to dawn on him all at once, 
and he turned to me. I was ready to stem the 
tide of his thanks by protesting that I had done 
no more than my duty; but he only exclaimed, 
" Where 's my hat? " I told him where I last 
had seen it, and he cried : " Why did you let it 
go ? You might have saved it ! " 

All the way home he grumbled from under the 
handkerchief tied on his head in place of that 
lost straw hat. 

At last I could stand it no longer, and up- 
braided him for his ingratitude. 

This brought him to his senses, and he said, 
sheepishly enough, that of course he was much 
obliged, but he wished I had thought to save 
the hat, as I might easily have done. How- 
ever, he said, it was no matter; but he was 
sorry, as it was such a nice hat, and he got it 
only yesterda)-. 



' > 


By Elizabeth L. Gould. 

I SPIED her in my garden. 
Clasped tightly in each hand 
She held a monstrous posy, 
Her dimpled cheeks were rosy; 
She smiled and begged my pardon, 
\Vhen near her I did stand. 

" I 've come to pay a visit," 

She said, — the pretty dear ! — 

" For thirty long, long days, sir. 

And are n't you glad I 'm here." 

■' Now what may be your name, i)lease ? ' 
I gently did demand ; 
'• And whose are all these flowers ? " 
She said, " Why, they are t>/os .' 
I 'm June; last night I came, please, 
Straight from the Summer Land." 



Mrs. Marvin lived in East Fifty-seventh 
street, New York, a rather quiet part of the city, 
and one not accustomed to getting itself into the 
papers. Opposite her house was a queer-look- 
ing building which was tlie cause of consider- 
able comment in the neighborhood. Down- 
stairs appeared to be a stable with wide doors 
that were seldom if ever opened, and it was a 
matter of curiosity as to what use could be made 
of it. Outside was a brick wall, and beyond 
this a grass-plot, the whole being fenced in 
with the customary iron railmg. Abo\ e 
the hall door was a small room, used 
as a kitchen, and over the stable 
a larger room in which lived 
Mr. and Mrs. Brown and 
their six children. This 
large room was parlor, 
sitting-room, bedroom, 
nursery, dining-room, 
and everything else, 
and I don'tknow where 
you would have found 
a happier home circle 
than the members of 
that particular colored 

They knew the secret 
of that stable, and were 
paid for not letting the 
cat out of the bag, and 
very proud they were at 
knowing so much more 
than their neighbors. 
But there are sayings 
that " Murder will out," 
and '■ There is nothing 
hid that shall not be 
known," and little did 
the Browns surmise 
what a trick Fanchon 
was to play on them. 

Fanchon ? Yes, the bal)y elephant which was 
owned by Mr. Reiche, the importer of foreign 
birds and animals, and was taken care of by 
Mr. Brown, and kept in safety and seclusion un- 
til the time arrived for her to appear in public. 
But Fanchon grew impatient; she wished to 
see a little more of the strange new world into 
which she had been brought. So one day when 
her keeper was absent she took it into her head 
to go on an exploring expedition. 

quietly out 
mto the liall, 
and climbing up 
.1 narrow stairway 
— ho\\ she did it no one 
knows — found herself on 
an upper landing whence she 
easily made her way into the kitchen 
where Mrs. Brown was preparing dinner. This 

good woman, hearing a step behind her, turned 
and saw a sight that almost froze the blood in 
her veins. For a moment she stood as one par- 
alyzed; then, recovering herself, threw open the 
window and screamed for dear life. 

It was a February afternoon, and Mrs. Mar- 
vin sat busily sewing, when she heard a most 
unearthly shriek that made her spring to the 


she was an elephant and her pranks were natu- 
rally on a large scale. Now and then she would 
go to the kitchen sink and help herself to a drink 
in the cleverest and neatest way. Occasion- 
ally she would come to the window with the 
youngest pickaninny in her trunk, and poor 
Mrs. Brown could be seen following, and 
wringing her hands in an agony of fear. She 

window in great haste ; and all her neighbors 
did likewise. There stood Mrs. Brown at her 
own window, screaming and wringing her hands 
in an agony of despair, while over her head was 
stretched out — what ? Could it be possible ? 
Was it really the trunk of an elephant ? Yes, 
unmistakably so, and Fanchon appeared to en- 
joy the situation, and to take great delight in 
breathing the fresh outdoor air. 

The newspapers and the small boy kept alive 
the excitement in the street, but that was nothing 
to the excitement in Mrs. Brown's rooms where 
an elephant had taken up its ijuarters and was 
making itself decidedly at home. 

Fanchon was as contented as she could be, 
and seemed bent on having a good time ; but 
Vol. XVIII.— 46. 

would have turned white, had that been possi- 
ble ; but ever)' one knew the fright she was in, 
and e\ery mother pitied her, and, oh, how 
thankful they were not to be in her place ! 
Crowds of people gathered about the building, 
and stood staring at it for hours at a time, hop- 
ing to catch a glimpse of the new member of 
Mrs. Brown's family. 

" Luk at her now ! " cried Teddy McGuire 
from the top of a convenient lamp-post. " She 's 
a tossin' the kid up in the air just like its own 
father ! Wud ye moind the like o' that ! " 

" An sure she 's brought her trunk with her 
and means to stay ! " cried Mikey Regan ; and 
shrieks and shouts made the street like a babel 
from morning till night. 


Mcainvhile, Mr. Drown and Mr. Rt-ichc were 
considering how they should get Fanchon down- 
stairs again, for it was certain she could not re- 
main where she was, and great care must be 
taken to prevent her being injured in any way. 
A prominent Safe Company offered to bring her 
down safe-ly for fifty dollars, but their offer was 

Presently, carpenters with lumber made ilieir 
appearance, and five men worked like beavers 
to make a toboggan-slide for Mistress Fanchon. 
It was finished at the end of three days. It 
went from the upper window to the top of the 
stone wall — not a very steep slope — then took 
a turn and a gradual descent into the open space 
below, leading directly into the stable. 

All the boys in the neighborhood were in 
hope that the show would take place at noon, 
to give them a chance to see the fun, but they 


woman was to get rid of her unwelcome and 
unwieldy guest ; and so the baby elephant might 
make considerable resistance. 

Well, the day came when everything was in 
readiness for Fanchon's removal, and long be- 
fore noon the street was packed with people 
gathered there to see the circus. There were at 
least three thousand spectators, not counting 
those at the windows or on the roofs of the 
houses, and shouts and cries, jokes, and the 
songs of the day made things lively for those 
who watched and waited for the grand exit. 
The crowd were prepared to give Fanchon a 
tremendous cheering, but after they had been 
requested to be as silent as possible you could 
have heard a pin drop. It was a most remark- 
able situation. 

Out of the window stepped Fanchon, pre- 
ceded by young Mr. Reiche, who patted her on 

were doomed to disappointment. It is an old the trunk and quietly urged her along, and all 

adage that " Great bodies move slowly," and went well until they came to the end of the 

Fanchon could not be hurried. Besides, she platform resting on top of the stone wall. Here 

was well satisfied with her quarters and not half Fanchon was at a loss to know what she was to 

so anxious to leave Mrs. Brown as the poor do. What was expected of her ? She stretched 


out her hind leg in search of some support, 
and, finding none, swayed her body against Mr. 
Reiche and threw him violently down upon the 
grass-plot, a distance of at least twelve feet .\ 
thrill of horror went through the crowd! It 


so that she would fall no further. Then they 
rolled out five bales of hay, and on these 
Fanchon got a foothold and was easily led 
down into the stable. 

When Fanchon disappeared from view, and 


seemed to Mrs. Marvin that the poor young 
man stood on his head with his feet in the air 
for fully five minutes ! It was a wonder his 
neck was not broken. 

Added to this was the threatening danger 
that Fanchon, having lost her foothold, would 
fall on the young man and crush him to death. 
She swayed in that direction ! The lookers-on 
were breathless; powerless to help, and scarcely 
daring to move ! .A.t this fearful moment, Mr. 
Brown, at the risk of his own life threw himself 
violently against the elephant and prevented the 

Fanchon turned, made a misstep and fell, 
partly on the wall, and partly on the lower plat- 
form. Up to this time she had behaved exceed- 
ingly well and was as gentle as a kitten, but 
scared at the accident she trumpeted forth a 
blast that must have been heard several blocks 
away. The carpenters came at once to her 
rescue, placing timbers and boards under her. 

it was known that she was safe and all right, 
the crowd gave a sigh of relief and melted away 
like dew before the morning sun. But no one 
breathed more freely than Mrs. Brown, who de- 
clared that she 'd rather have a dozen pickanin- 
nies to look after than one elephant — even a 
small one like that. 

But the most disappointed boy was Clarence 
Marvin, who was more than vexed that the show 
did not take place at twelve o'clock instead of 
two. His mother gave him all the particulars, 
and even acted out the way in which Fanchon 
stepped off and looked around, and described 
everything most minutely. She said it was 
comical to see the horses help themselves to the 
vegetables in the wagons ahead of them, as if 
there was a free lunch set out for their benefit, 
while the drivers paid no heed whatever to profit 
or loss. 

All business in that quarter of the city was at 
a standstill for the time being, anil, indeed, I put 

636 A FREE CIRCUS. [Junk, 

it to you if it was n't enough to make a small the more heartily did he grieve that he was n't 

boy weep to have to be told about a circus which on hand " to take it in," as he said, and the only 

took place in front of his own door and was thing that pacified him was the promise of a 

free to all. season ticket to the circus, which was soon to make 

And the more Clarence laughed at the story its ap])earance at the Madison Square Garden. 


Bv Harlan H. Ballard. 

Being delayed for fifteen "minutes at Lenox 
Station, waiting for a train, I occupied the time 
and entertained myself by kneeling on a lit- 
tle rustic bridge, and watching the water as it 
ran below. The rivulet deepened to a small 
pool just under the bridge, and on the smoothly 
flowing surface a number of water-bugs were 
disporting themselves. I observed that except 
when disturbed, as by the approach of some- 
thing good to eat, an aggressive enemy, or a 
thundering train, they rested on the water with 
their heads up-stream, and floated quietly down 
for perhaps a foot, when, by a sudden, jerky 
motion, too quick for the eye to follow, they 
regained their former positions, and then floated 
down again as before. I presume they are still 
there, and still busy, first floating down-stream, 
and then snapping themselves back again, and 
I have no doubt they enjoy life. Theirs is a 
species of Hquid coasting that commends itself 
to one's approval. 

But I was at once interested to discover by 

what means these little creatures were able to 
skip thus contentedly upon the surface of the 
water, and to learn how they propelled them- 
selves so swiftly against the flowing current. 
Their brown, diamond-shaped bodies were so 
far below my eyes, and withal so slender, and 
so nearly the color of the sand below them, 
and their motions were so quick, that at first 
I could not determine whether they moved by 
a rowing of their legs, or whether the)- ejected 
streams of water from the back of their living 
craft, as many aquatic insects do. I could 
not class them with certainty either as side- 
wheelers or propellers. But presently m)- at- 
tention was diverted from the bugs themsel\-es 
to their shadows upon the bed of the brook a 
foot or two below. By studying these, I found 
the solution of both the jiroblems that had 
puzzled me. 

Fig. I represents one of these curious shadows; 
only it is n't half so interesting as the real one, 
for this is onlv a dead shadow, and cannot float, 


and swim, and eat, as the live shadows seem 
to do. You will notice that in front of the head, 
which is the handle end of the trowel-shaped 
body-shadow (r/), there are two overlapping cir- 
cles, ((/) connected to the body by slender lines. 
At each side of these are much smaller shadows 
(<■), elHptical in form, and also connected to the 
body by long, slender lines. Behind the body 
are two spoon-shaped shadows, connected to it 
by short black lines. Remembering that insects 
are six-legged creatures, I had no difficulty in 
recognizing these portions of the shadow as 
caused by the water-bug's legs or feet, and my 
first thought was that it must have paddle- 
shaped feet, round in front and oval behind, by 
means of whose expanded disks it was enabled 
to " walk the water like a thing of life." But 

then I noticed around each foot-shadow, but 
not around the body-shadow, a circle or border 
of brilliant light. 

Here was the key to one riddle : Under each 
foot the water was pressed down into a little 
concavity or pit. This depression acted as a 
concave lens, refracting the light around its 
edges in a bright ring ; and the large shadows 
were shadows not of the feet, but of the curving 
water-hollows. The feet were not, then, nec- 
essarily of the same shape as the shadows. 
Leaving the shadows for the moment, I now 
examined more attentively the insect itself; and 
having caught a reflection of light from the 

upper surface of the water beneath its legs, I saw 
that the feet were not essentially unlike those of 
other insects. They are, in fact, quite slender, 


as may be seen in Fig. 2, which was drawn 
from a similar bug, although I was not able to 
catch one of the identical bugs I am describing. 
This is certainly a picture of a very near rela- 
tive, however, if not of a brother, and serves our 
purpose sufficiently well. 

The insect rests upon the water not merely 

its feet, but a considerable portion of its legs. 
The hind legs were in contact all the way from 
the joint r, the fore legs for the shorter distance 



from il to /i, Fig. 2. This explains the differing 
shapes of the forward and rear shadows. If 
you will experiment with some little straws of 
different lengths, laid upon still water in full 
sunlight, at about one o'clock, you will see ex- 
actly how it is — the circle, the oval, and the 
surrounding ring of light. 

It remained to determine the manner of 
locomotion. What I could not see by watch- 
ing the insect, the shadow revealed at once. 
With every jerk of the bug when it started 
to row up-stream, the shadows cc flashed back 
(if shadows can do that), until they were on 
a line with the broad, oval shadows behind, 
and instantly returned to their normal position. 
The insect rows itself by means of the middle 
pair of legs. That word rcmigis in the name 
of this insect precisely indicates the motion of 
these tiny oars, and the "recover" which is 
effected by them would make a college oars- 
man green with envy. That other name, Hygro- 
trec/iiis, water-runner, is n't so bad, either. 

Well, I supposed my shadow-lesson was over, 
and was about to turn away, as I heard a dis- 
tant engine-whistle, when I was surprised to see 
the shadow I was watching suddenly grow very 
much smaller, so that it was not more than 

a fifth its former size. The bug had simply 
floated into much shallower water, and, of 
course, its shadow was less magnified. The 
nearer it approached the bottom the smaller 
was the shadow. At the same time I was sur- 
])rised to see the oar-shadows (cc) of another 
water-bug suddenly increase in size and become 
circular, and precisely like the forward circles 
{(id). The two observations explained each 
other. The little rower usually carries his oars 
dipped beneath the surface, as human boatmen 
carry theirs, and consequentl)' their .shadows are 
smaller than those of the other legs, but he can 
raise them to the surface and stand on them, 
and then they make shadows as large as the 
others. This also shows why the rear shadows 
taper to a point ; the ends of the hind legs dip 
under the water. While I was congratulating 
myself on this discovery, I was once more aston- 
ished by seeing a new shadow, precisely similar 
to those at dd, appear just behind and between 
them, forming a triangle of circles (Fig. 3). This 
was an easy problem — the bug had simply low- 
ered its proboscis to take a drink, or, perhaps, 
to make a sub-aqueous obser\ation. Perhaps its 
dinner was ready ; at all events, my train was. 
May their shadows ne\er grow less! 


By Mary A. Mason. 

Blow gently, Winds of June ! Each downy nest 
Is full of unsung songs and unspread wings 
That will respond to patient hoverings ; 

Soft rockings suit the rustic cradles best. 

Blow gently. Winds of June ! The bud is here 
That soon will be transformed into the rose, 
The sweetest miracle that nature knows ; 

A breath might mar the beauty of the year. 

So easily the song drops out of tune. 
So eagerly the sun absorbs the dews. 
So quickly does the rose its petals lose. 

That, for their sakes, blow gently, Winds of June! 

A J I .\ L |)A\ IN 1111. OKL'UARU. 



" Mama," said another kitten, about a week after his brother's meetin<f 
with the turtle as was told in the last St. Nicholas. " I am grown up, and 
I should like to go and catch mice. I sha'n't catch a turtle." 

" Why not wait a few weeks ? " said his mother. 

" I can't wait. I feel so big and strong, I must hunt," said the kitten. 

" But do you know how ? " his mother asked. 

"It is easy," said the kitten. "All I have to do is to run after a mouse 
till I get him in a corner, and then put my paw on him." 

" But mice are slj^" said his mother. " So am I, ' said the kitten. 

" Very well," said his mother ; " and I hope you will catch one." 

So the kitten walked away with his tail held up high, and went down into 
the cellar. The cellar was not very dark, and soon the kitten saw two rats 
come creeping and crawling out, to sup upon some wheat stalks which were 
in a corner near the big barrel. He thought they were mice. The kitten 
saw that there was a queer sort of box there, made of wires, but he did not 
know what it was. "It is a bird-cage," he said, "but some mean cat has 
eaten the bird already. Never mind, I will catch a mouse." 

So the kitten jumped, and hit his paw very hard on the stone floor. But 
the rats jumped, too, and the kitten heard them laughing. So he was cross, 
and ran after one of the rats as hard as he could go. 

» Now, this was a clever rat, and he saw that the kitten did not know how 
to catch him. He ran about a little while, and then played he was very 
tired, and sat down near one end of the queer "bird-cage." 

" Ah ! " said the kitten, " I have tired him out ; now I will jump on him." 

So the kitten jumped ! — aw-ay ran the rat, safe and sound, but there was 
a sharp click! — and the kitten found himself caught in the "bird-cage." 

"Now, what would mama do, if she was in here?" said the kitten to 
himself " I did not ask her how to get out of a bird-cage." 

Just then the rats came up to the cage and, hearing him call it a "bird- 
cage," said: 

"What a pretty bird ! Sing, birdie, sing!" 

.A little rat peeked out from a hole in the wall, and said, "Tee-hee!" 

The kitten was very glad when he heard his mother in soft, furry slippers, 
not long after, and he said, " Here I am, Mama — in the ' bird-cage ' ! " 

" Bird-cage," said his mother, and then she began to laugh, too, and said, 
" Tee-hee," just as the rats had done. When she stopped laughing, she said : 



" Why, Kit, that's a rat-trap ! and I think you must be taught a Httlc 
before you go hunting mice again." Then she helped him out. 

As they went up-stairs the kitten heard the three rats in the cellar, and 
thev said, " Tee-hee ! Tee-hee ! Tee-hee!" 




■ y^' \ j-^^"^ '- "^-v iLt> ^v- -\ 


Dear me ! This is a busy montli, my hearers — 
not quite as ornamental or decorative, so to speak, 
as May, with her Japanese effects of bare branches 
and many blossoms, but more practical and, to my 
mind, more beautiful. For the blossoms have be- 
gun the work of fruit-making, the gardens are full of 
roses, and the fields are fairly nodding with loveli- 

Anti the letters! why, they are fairly raining upon 
this pulpit. I cannot show them to you to-day; 
but at our next meeting, the July meeting, you know, 
I think we shall have nothing but letters — good, 
true letters from boys and girls, all answering the 
questions put to you from this pulpit last month, 
namely, "What is this?" and "Do Animals 
Think? " — and let me remark right here that I am 
heartily proud of this congregation. 

And now to present business. What have we 
here? Ah, 1 see ! — something kindly sent for the 
poor protester by one of your favorite story-tellers, 
Miss Alice Maude Ewcll': 


Dkar Public: Allow me my wrongs to unfold. 
Of me every day such queer stories are told. 
Past keeping it in, I must really speak out, 
And settle this matter beyond further doubt. 

."^s steady a fellow as ever you saw. 
The sturdiest stickler for order and law. 
Unresting, unswerving, I hold to my way. 
From life's morning dawn to the end of its day. 

If faster or slower my work-hammer's beat, 

If sadly a-weary or joyously fleet — 

Still, still it keeps going; night, morning, and noon. 

Whenever you listen you '11 hear my brave tunc. 

I 'm always at work, and I 'm always at liome. 
Nor high-days nor holidays tempt me to roam. 

When all are fast sleeping at midnight, I keep 
My watch to make sure they '11 wake safely from 

Yet what are folks constantly saying of mc? 

(1 'm sure when I tell you how falsely you 'II see,) 

They say I stand still when they 're shocked or 

amazed — 
The silliest rumor e'er vanity raised ! 

They '11 vow that I leap to one's mouth or one's eyes. 
(Now, prithee, good Public, consider my size .') 
They '11 talk of my sinking most frightfully low. 
Into somebody's boots! — monstrous fib, as you 

They '11 say I 've been lost, or been left here or there. 
(Why, I never was lost in my life, I declare !) 
They '11 say I 've been stolen or traded away. 
Or shot by that chit of a Cupid so gay. 

They '11 even make pictures of me skewered through 
With most absurd arrows, (just think of it, do !) 
On pink clouds a-floating where rose garlands twine. 
In a what-do-you-call-it? — ahem! — Valentine. 

In short, there 's no nonsense they will not invent. 
And must 1, so slandered, rest meekly content? 
My character 's ruined ; these chattering elves 
Would make me as flighty and wild as — them- 

And now, dearest Public, I 've stated my case. 
Many thanks to the friends who have granted me 

I leave you to judge of the woes I impart. 
And sign myself, yours most respectfully, 



Dear Jack: Last evening I broke up two good 
English words (which shall be sent you. restored, 
ne.\t month) and here are the mixed pieces — just 
forty-one of them. 

Meantime, can the dear little schoolma'am, or 
any of her friends, so arrange these forty-one let- 
ters as to spcU the two words? Every letter here 
shown must be used. 


Yours truly, X. Y. 7,. 


De.\r Jack : I am one of your most devoted readers, 
having every number of St. Nicholas. I am especially 
fond of readjiiL; tlie letters, and would like to add my 
mite to tlie fund of interest. 

Coming from Europe last summer, I met with quite 
an adventure. It in June, and the ocean had been 
'' as smooth as glass," as the saying goes. But one day 
it appeared rougher, « liile far in the distance could be 
seen something glittering. 

We were seated at dinner, when word came from 
above that there was an icelierg in sight. Every one 
rushed up on deck to see the wonder. Il was perfectly 
beautiful ! The sun shone upon it, making it glitter with 
all llie colois of llie rainbow. It looked as if it were 



made of an immense iridescent crystal. It gradually 
approached the vessel, much to the terror of many of the 
passengers. Slowly it came nearer and nearer, towering 
above us like some great giant bent upon destroying us. 

We all thought the vessel was doomed, when, w ith- 
out the least warning, the iceberg tottered, and then 
turned over. \\'e were saved ! When it fell, it remained 
quiet for a few moments, and when it again started on 
its wanderings its course was changed, and it began to 
float away. 

Vou can imagine what thankful hearts our vessel held 
as she sped onward toward New York. 
Your loving reader, 

Is.\BEL V. M. Livingston'. 


De.\r Mr. J.-vck: Perliaps 
" dude " is not a word in 
good standing with you and 
your congregation. Well, I 
am not fond of foppery my- 
self, yet I am disposed Jo 
think that we are sometimes 
too severe in our judgment 
of this particular species of 
humankind. Surely it is no 
more than right for every 
person to make hmiself as at- 
tractive as possible, and I 
know that history tells us of 
a few great and good men 
who were fops. I have read 
that Bufibn, the famous nat- 
uralist, would neither sit 
down to write, nor walk in 
his garden to think, unless he 
were arrayed in fine clothes, 
lace, frills, and ruffs, and was 
jeweled and perfumed. 

But whether we tolerate 
or despise the dude, we must 
admit that he is a natural 
variety of the human race ; 
for he is found in every in- 
habited part of the globe, be 
it burning Africa, or frozen 
Greenland, a vast continent, 
or a tiny island in mid-ocean. 
.And, by speaking of islands, 
I have brought myself by de- 
grees to the particular dude 
which I have in mind — the 
Fiji dude. 

I remember telling you 
some years ago of a South 
Sea Island fop * who had the 
very pretty fancy of attaching 
living butterflies to his hair, 
by means of almost invisible 
threads, thus permitting the 
beautiful creatures to flutter 
about his head as he walked 
abroad. The Fiji dude has 
an even prettier fancy. 

He seems to have a pas- 
sion for flowers, which, in (he 

moist, warm climate of the islands, grow with a luxuri- 
ance and splendor unknown to men who live in more 
temperate regions. Orchids and other brilliantly colored 
and exquisite flowers may be jilucked on every hand, and 
the ordinary Fijian, indeed, does not take the trouble to 

gather them. But the native dandy, the superlative young 
man, does so when he sets out for his lazy afternoon 

He has prepared himself for it by lounging all the day, 
and his air, as he struts along, is that of a person who 
finds living a great trouble. He is on the lookout, never- 
theless, for any especially gorgeous blossom, and when 
he finds one, he lazily plucks it, leaving a long stem, and 
fastens it in his hair, disposing it so that it will nod in 
graceful harmony with his languid walk. 

Unfortunately, he does not know moderation, but keeps 
adding flower after flower, until it sometimes happens 
that his head is one mass of nodding, drooping posies 
of such brilliant coloring that the man himself becomes 

an insignificant part of the display. .As the flowers wilt 
and fade they are replaced by the fresh ones which are 
to be gathered on every hand. 

Yours truly, 

John R. Coryell. 

* See St. Nicholas, Vol. 12, p. 713. 

Co\ IKIBU loRS ire rebpectfulh inf imetl thit betueen the istof June and the 15th of September, manuscripts can 

not con\eniently be examined it the office of the St. Nicholas. Consequently, those who desire to favor the 

magazine with contributions will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date. 

U. S. Naval Academy, .\nnapolis. white plume on it, gets out of his carriage and helps the 

Dear St. Nicholas: I have read letters from a queen out of hers, and then the people shout: I'h'u il 

great many places, but I never saw one from the Naval AV.' and Vkki la Regiiia! Inside, the great Parliament 

Academy. My papa is an officer stationed here; and chamber is in the form of a semicircle ; the king's throne 

the grounds are beautiful all the year, but the spring is is on the straight side of the wall. The deputies wear 

the best time here, for the cadets have drills at four evening dress with white gloves. The queen and court 

o'clock every afternoon. During commencement week ladies sit in a box high up on the right, the diplomatic 

in June there is a flag-drill ; the cadets are divided into corps in another large box on the left, and otlier people 

four companies, and the company that drills the best who have tickets in the gallery between. The king 

carries the colors during all the next year ; the marking makes a speech, each deputy in turn takes the oath of 

is very strict, so they must be particular not to make allegiance, cheers the royal family, and it is over. This 

the least mistake. year the king's son, the prince of Naples, and his nephew 

I am seven years old, and have had you for a Christmas the duke of Aosia, both just twenty-one, took the oath, 

present, for three years. I go to school, and can read, too, wliich everybody seemed to think very interesting, 

and I love all the verses you have in your magazine. I Then all march out in great state, the king and queen 

wanted to tell you about my cat, " "Teddie," but I am drive away slowly, eye-glasses, opera-glasses, and cam- 

afraid it will make my letter too long 

Dear St. Nicholas : Perhaj: 

Dale S. I!- 

Rome, Italy. 
vou would like to hear 

eras point at them from all sides, soldiers present arms, 
and beggars beg, bands play, and dogs bark, and all go 
liome to breakfast. 

I am one of your constant readers, ju'l ten years old 
( I mention it as it seems to be the fas'.ion to tell ages in 

something about the opening of Parliament in Rome, the letters). .\s my papa is a U. S. official abroad I 

which is a ir/r fine affair. The king always opens have traveled much, and have seen many interesting 

Parliament early in December, and he, the queen and things in the world. Ever your loving friend, 

some of the court drive from the palace to the state- Heloise S . 

house in the state carriages, which are splendid old-fash- 

ioned coaches — masses of carving and gilding. The Naples, It.\ly. 

coachmen and footmen have on scarlet and gold liveries. My Dear St. Nicholas : We are traveling in Italy 

with white silk stockings, powdered wigs, and cocked and have done so much in the last few days that I thought 

hats. Three footmen stand behind, holding on to the I would write you a letter to-day. Yesterday we went 

straps. It is exactly like the pictures of Cinderella, ex- up Mount Vesuvius. We bought our tickets at the hotel, 

cept that the queen is in modern dress, of course. The then took a cab down to Cook's office, where we had our 

king's carriage is drawn by six horses with white plumes tickets stamped. The carriages did not start until nine 

on their heads and with splendid harness. o'clock. There were some men around the office who 

The sidewalks are packed with people, but two lines wanted to sell canes to help us climb. The carriage we 

of soldiers keep all carriages away except those of the went in was a regular two-horse carriage only it had three 

procession. horses. For almost an hour after we passed the gales 

When they get to the house of Parliament, the king, it was just the same as in the city. There were a great 

in a fine uniform with a brass helmet and an immense many beggars who ran along beside the carriage, and 




the farther away from Naples we got, the more beggars 
there were. About two hours from Naples we came to 
tlie lava streams. It was the funniest looking stuff you 
ever saw. We got to the place called the Hermitage at 
twelve, where we took the wire-rope railroad. At the 
top we had to walk. There are some men tliat want to 
pull you up but we did not take any of them. The path 
was very zigzaggy and not very steep until we reached 
the old crater, which does not let out much smoke. After 
that the path was very steep. Walter and 1 climbed up 
alone. About half-way up we both got so much sulphur 
in our lungs and were out of breath that we felt like going 
ijack, but we look a little rest and put our handkerchiefs 
up 10 our mouths and got up to the top of the crater. I 
did not want to go any farther because I was scared, but 
tlie guide took liold of me and pulled me down into the 
crater. Every few seconds there would be a big boom, 
and red-hot stones would fly up and fire would go up, too, 
and a puff of smoke would go up, and it was awful. All 
the bad people in the world ought to see that and I am 
pretty sure they would all turn good. I think that Mt. 
Vesuvius is the best part of Europe so far. 

Your faithful reader, 

her modest dwelling. She cared nothing for her own 
comfort and ease, but devoted her life to the good of 

When Margaret died all business houses were closed 
and the city put on mourning. 

Thousands of little orphans and school children took 
part in the funeral procession. AH the bells in the city 
were tolled, the houses all along the line of march were 
draped in mourning, and all classes joined in the pro- 

The statue to her memory was erected by the city. It 
represents her seated, with one arm around a child who 
stands at her side. Her dress is plain and simple. Her 
fineliead with its smoothly parted hair and her pleasant, 
though serious face show a true womanhood, and make 
the statue both striking and unique. It stands in a little 
triangular park, at the junction of Camp and Prytanea 
streets, directly in front of an orphan asylum. At the 
time of its erection, it was the only public statue in the 
United States in memory of a woman. 

I have been reading St. Nichol.\s for four years and 
enjoy it very much. Vour constant and devoted reader, 

Alameda, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am sick, so my aunt is writ- 
ing this for me. I went in a ship around Cape Horn 
to Liverpool, and I was one hundred and thirty days, 
and the ship's name was the /. F. Chapman. \X Cape 
Horn it was very cold. In rough weather, the steward 
would carry me over on his back to the galley and I 
made doughnuts with the cook and steward. Aly father 
bought eighteen chickens, and the carpenter on board 
made a chicken-coop for them, and I fed them all the 
way, and seven of them died, six were killed, two we 
gave to the captain, and three left are coming back on 
the ship to me. I expect them every day now. I went 
to Brighton and stayed there a little over five months in 
boarding-school, while my mama and papa traveled in 
Europe. I was glad to get back to California. 

I have a little brother four years old, and I am nine, 
and we are both Americans. Your little friend, 

Einvix O . 

Staunton, Va. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have seen in a paper a short 
account of .Margaret of Orleans, and thinking that the 
readers of " Lady Jane," would like to know more of 
" Mother Margaret " I send you the following little his- 
tory : She lived in New Orleans and was known simply 
as " Margaret." Her name was Margaret Hauggery, 
and years ago she took care of the cows in a large stable, 
situated near the spot where the statue now stands. She 
fed and milked the cows and sold the milk from a cart 
which she drove about the city. She had lost both hus- 
band and child and, at that time, was entirely alone in 
the world. In tlie course of a few years, by exercising 
strict economy, she managed to save enough to buy a 
small bakery. She prospered in her new undertaking 
and was soon able to build a larger house. Before long 
bread carts were running all over the city bearing the 
simple words " Margaret's Bakery."' Her bread and 
rolls became famous and she had many patrons. During 
the war, and in fever epidemics, she ran free bread carts 
through the city, generously supplying those who were 
too poor to buy. 

Margaret always furnished the bread free to the city 
asylums and hospitals. 

She founded several orphan asylums herself, and at 
the time of her death her little charges were numbered by 
the thousands. 

She spent very little on herself. She dressed in calico, 
and wore coarse, heavy shoes, and she had no luxuriesin 

The illustrated jingle wliich follows is the work of 
our young contributor, Master E. A. Cleveland Coxe. 
We commend the moral to all young lawbreakers. 

Ho: sap -f/iis policena.n vilh a smile 

Ac/ie cau^ll )ioi/ pccple baifllnginiheMilt! 

^■For -fhcii a-ill net ameas^cYe.; 

Until appears fhtdieodccl 

Cncccile ! 


Poklisa, Transylvania, .Austria. 
My Dear St. Nicholas : As I do not remember 
ever seeing a letter from Transylvania in your charming 
magazine, I thought I might write you one from this 
out-of-the-way corner of the world. We are the only 
English people in this part of the country, and live in 
an old white house in a little village called Poklisa. I 
wonder if any of your readers have ever seen a Transyl- 
vanian village. I can scarcely call it pretty, with its 
thatched, wooden huts, fences formed of interlaced twigs 
and branches, muddy roads, and abundance of pigs. Ex- 


cept for ourselves and one or two Hungarians, the rest 
of the inhabitants of Poklisa are Rumanian peasants. 
I am very interested in these people. They speak a pretty 
language, and dress quite picturesquely. The men wear 
loose white linen clothes, a sheepskin waistcoat and 
broad leather belt, and either a high curly white or black 
sheepskin cap, or a wide-brimmed flat hat like a Mexi- 
can sombrero. In winter they have thick, long woolen 
coats, generally white. On their feet they wear a sort of 
leather sandals called "apincT." The women dress in 
while also, with waistcoats sometimes beautifully em- 
broidered, and two gaily colored aprons, one worn in 
front, the other behind. Vou can easily tell whether they 
are married, as the women roll their heads in a long white 
cloth, while the girls plait their hair at one side in a most 
unbecoming fashion. 

The Rumanians have many queer old customs. On 
Christmas day, in each village, they have a "cerbi." 
That is a man dressed up as a stag, with wide horns and 
ears, and a long nose. He goes to all the houses dan- 
cing and acting, followed by a boy playing a flute, and 
all the unmarried men of the place. He is a most com- 
ical sight, as you may imagine, and makes one laugh 
very much, .\nother thing they do is on New Year's 
morning, when a party of carters come round with their 
long whips, and wake up the people of the house by 
cracking them a noisy salute. That is their way of 
wishing a Happy New Year. 

Besides Hungarians and Rumanians we have plenty 
of gipsies here. These are very lazy, dark, and dirty, 
and up to all sorts of mischief. One day I went to see 
a gipsy village. It consisted of about a dozen miserable 
little huts, half sunk in the earth, and built of turf and 
loose stones. It was swarming with untidy children ; 
and while we were there a very ragged man with long 
black hair came out of one of the huts and played to us 
on a sort of bagpipes. All gipsies are fond of music. 
They play most beautifully on the violin, and every little 
town and WUage has its gipsy band. Indeed they are 
so idle, that is the only way they care to earn their living. 
I should like to tell you about the bear-hunts I have 
seen, and of the good time we had camping out in the 
mountains last autumn, but I am afraid my letter is too 
long already. So hoping you will print it, for it is the 
first I have written, though we have taken you for ten 
years, I am your devoted reader, 


Fort Snellixg, Minx. 

.Mv Dear St. Nicholas : This post, which is one 
of the largest in the United States, is divided into three 
parts : The upper post, the lower post, and the ordnance 

What is now the ordnance depot used to be the old 
fort; the old one-story stone quarters and the remains 
of the old gray stone walls are standing yet, and look 
very picturesque from a distance, especially in the sum- 
mer, when the green of the trees contrasts with the 
crumbling walls. Near it stands the old tower, which 
was part of a wall (now taken down) built across the 
point for fortification. 

In the lower post is the hospital and part of the officers' 
quarters ; going on up we reach as the next thing of inter- 
est the headquarters building, in which are the offices, the 


post school, etc. ; next to it, a little back, is the post hall. 
Farther up on the other side are the other officers' quar- 
ters, built of yellow brick ; in front of them are beautiful 
lawns dotted with numerous trees. Just opposite are the 
soldiers' quarters, .ilso of yellow brick, built within the 
past two years. There have been here, as prisoners, about 
twenty Brule Sioux Indians from the I'ine Ridge .-Vgency. 

\Ve remain your faithful readers, F. K . 

C. K . 

.Alba.w, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have this year subscribed 10 
your interesting magazine. It was one of my Christmas 
presents. ^Ve lived in a hotel last winter, while my papa 
was in the Legislature, and I had nothing to do but read 
and write. I send you a little rhyme I made while watch- 
ing the raindrops on the telephone wires : 
I am, your loving friend, 

W. H. D ., Jr. 

The Rai.ndrops. 

See the little raindrops go. 

Some are fast and some are slow, 

Sw ift along the wires they fly. 

And as they pass my window by 

I think them like a life, 

Swift gliding, full of strife. 

.Some are weak, and some are strong, 

.\nd as they meet, some fall, some pass along. 

Chicago, III. 
St. Nicholas : I have no brothers nor sisters and I 
was often very lonelv up to the time that I got the St. 
Nicholas. I like -'The Fortunes of Toby Trafford." 
It makes me mad when I read about Tom Tazwell ; he 's 
just like a boy near where I live. In school we have 
very nice times. \Ve have a hall in which we go to sing on 
Fridays. We have an orchestra of violins, a flute, and 
a piano. Your reader, 

William D — -. 

We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them : Kate C. Wasson, 
Bessie M., Nellie P., Hatlie F. W., A. E. C, Nannie 
L. S., Mabel G., M. S. G., Helen G. C, Ednah F. C. 
Cushinan and David N., Nannie S., Edith W., Hetty M. 
A., Elizabeth B. T., M. Christabel M., Hugh Eglinton 
M., Grace B., \YaIter F., Ray E. B.,Fred M. B.," Helen 
M., Lulu B. McA., Walter S., Unitv M. T., Horace G., 
M. Clare T-, Edna E., Douglas S. N., -Nellie O. B., Mav 
M. D., Roy W. H., Birdie B., Bessie G.. Carl H.', 
Clarence F., Phillips K., Beth, Donald A. S., Eleanor 
U., Harold U., Winifred F., Elva E. F., Marguerite, 
Eliza N. W. .\., .Annie C J., Florence A., Laurel Y. 
H., Raymond N., Shirley B., Kitty S. J., Effie F., Ethel 
L. P., Nontian B., .\lice C, Heidi G. .S., Marion and 
Meriam W., Flora L. B., fohn F., Maud S., Russell S., 
Leslie McB., Gertie A. \Y., Fannie R. S., Selma P., 
Allie S., Elvenia J. J., T. Charles N., Helen Louise -M., 
J. J. F., Natalie S., Charles E. M., Atwoo<l .M., Ferris 
N., Edith R., JimmieW.,J. H. E, Clyde N.,H. R. R., 
Bessie and .Vlice, Louise B., Harry H., Marion D.. 
Thomas G. S., Sophy M.. Fred K. C, Mamie C, Regi- 
nald B., Edith R. S.', Ruth S. G., Rebecca W. B. 



, Mate 

5. Caledo 



■iKn WoRi>- SQUARE. I. Thonias. 2. Hopest. 3. Opiate. 
gre. 5. Astral. 6. Steels. 

iLE Acrostic. Primals, John Keats: finals, l^igh Hunt. 
jss-words : i. Jail. 2. Oboe. 3. Hemi. 4. Nung. 5. Koch. 
Each. 7. Abou. 8. Thin. 9. Shut. 

_'ENTR\t. Acrostic. Centrals, Memorial Day. Cross-words: 
Met- 3- Lemon. 4. Trope. 5. Porch. 6. Blink. 
Olden. 10. Impaled. 11. Playful. 

Yearn. 8. Baled. 


" Rough wi 

Chancellorsville. Cross-words : i. Cram. 2. Chin. 
, Bran. 5. Pict. 6. Feat. 7. Loon. 8. Clay. 9. Plot. 

All about the softening air 

Of new-bom sweetness tells. 
And the ungathered May-flowers wear 

The tints of ocean shells. 
The old, assuring miracle 

Is fresh as heretofore ; 
And earth takes up its parable 

Of life from death once more. 

s. Centrals, Audubon. Cross-words : i. abrAdes 
oDd. 4. U. 5. aBt. 6. shOck. 7. shiNgle. 
AND Diamond. Rhomboid. Across: i. Sages. 
Metal. 5. Debar. Included diamond : 
4. Met. 5. D. 
1 the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
; of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 
March Number were received, before March 15th, from Paul Reese — Maude E. Palmer — 
Josephine Sherwood — Mama and Jamie — Alice M. Blanke and sister— " The Wise Five"— Pear! F. Stevens — Clara B. Orwig— L. O. 
E. and C. E.— E. M. G.— A. H. and R —Agnes and Elinor— " Infantry "-Nellie L. Howes — Blanche and Fred — Violette—" Uncle 
Mung "— " King Anso I V. "— Edith Sewall — Cousin Jack — " Lehte "— Ida C. Thallon. 

Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received, before March T5ih. from Helen Hughes, i— Roger B. Farquhar, Jr., 1 — 
John Cabot, Jr., 2— Natalie B., i — Warren Filkins, i — " The Peterkins," 8— Effie K. Talboys, 5— R. and L.Williams, i— Geo. 
Holmes, 2 — "Faith," i — "Reynard." 3 — E. A. C, i — Stanley, i — Elaine S., 3 — Julia F. Phj'fe, 2 — Carlotta Morgan, i — 
"Squib." 1— "Texas Steer,'* i — Nellie L. Denis, i— "Only I," i — Lisa D. Osgood, S— Jennie and Madge, 3 — Arthur B. Law- 
rence, 6 — Annie S. Hawes, 1— "Kendal." 2 — Holcombe Ward, 3 — Helen C. McClear>-, 9 — Channing Newton, i — A. P. C. and 
A. W. Ashhurst, 7 — " Papa, Mama, Uncle Frank, and Clara," i — Nellie M. Archer, 4 — " Emajinashun," 3— H. L. Bingay, 9 — "Nip 
and Bang,"5 — Marv C. and Beth T., 4 — Marian S., 3 — Sara L. R., 7 — C. A. M. P., 7 — C. Estelle and Clarendon Ions, 3 — 
" May and 79," 5— "The Scott Family," 8— Hypothenuse and K," 2 — " Charles Beaufort," S — P. R. England, 2 — Clara and Emma. 4 

— Charley F,. Griffith, 2 — " Mr. Toots," 8 — " Two Cousins," i — Carrie Thacher, 4 — Me and Sister, 3 — Bertha W. Groesbeck, 4 

— " Mama, Margaret, and Marion," 2 — "Ida and Alice," 9 — "Two Puzzlers," 7 — F. B. Barrett, 1 — " Puzzles," 2. 

Rimless Wheei 
Hamilton. From 
4 to 12, Ugoni ; 5 
8 to 16. Titan. 

To OUR Puzzi 

as, sal, last, tales, valets, estival, festival. 
Hub. From i to 8, Schubert: 9 to 1 
, sloth; 2 to 10, cobra; 3 to 11, Hiran 
, broil : 6 to 14, eclat : 7 to 15, Romec 

uld be addressed t 

IE Puz 

TH £ F^I D D 


I. I. A large bird. 2. TheAmer- 
an aloe. 3. A junto. 4. The front 
of an army. 5. Narrow strips of leather 
around a shoe. 

II. I. The green plover. 2. One of the 
Muses. 3. To vacillate. 4. Makes a note of. 5. A 
species of cod. "revxard.'' 


Cross-words: i. A celebrated Dutch painter. 2. A 
celebrated French mathematician and philosopher, born 
in 1743. 3. The composer of Masaniello. 4. A well- 
known German novelist, now living, 5. \ famous Kng- 
lish poet born in 178S. 6. A very famous singer. 7. .\n 

American novelist of to-day. S. A German composer, 
born in 1714. 9. A French writer of mock-scientific 
romances. 10. The wife of .Vthamus. 11. In Tennyson. 
The central letters, reading downward, will spell the 
name of a poet. "CHARLES beaukort." 


I. A vowel. 2. A preposition. 3. A tributary of the 
Rhone. 4. .\dvantage. 5. A measure of weight. 6. A 
plowing of land. 7. Robbing. 8. Untwisting. 9. Jour- 
neying. 10. .\n attenuated plant. " .XEI.IS." 


I. A SINGER. 2. To imagine. 3. An insect. 4. In 
hour-glass. 5. \ metal. 6. .\brupt in address. 7. 

The centra! letters, reading downwards, will spell a 
country of Europe. ALICE c. calhweil. 


T. \VHE.\first I went to i,my eye was caught by a 1-2-3 
which a comrade wore. I asked him where lie bought ii 
and he answered, " .\t 1-2-3-4-5." But my 1-2-3-4-6-7 
was to have it immediately, at any 3-4-5-6-7, so he gave 
it to me, in exchange for a piece of 5-6-7, and then I was 
more at my 7 s. 

The words to be supplied may be arranged so as to 
form a diamond. 

II. WiTHsome friends, al our l's,wesat down to 1-2-3, 
but when we had 1-2-3-4-5 we founil that it was 3-4-5 
o'clock, so our pleasure came to an 5 <h 

The words to be supplied may be arranged so as to 
form a diamond. M. E. I>. 


THE Rinnr.E-Bnx. 

m , J 

Example : Take a 
conjunction from sta- 
tion and leave to pain 
acutely. Answer, st- 
and-ing, sting. 
I. Take a little demon 
from artlessly, and 
leave cunning. 2. Take 
conflict from to recom- 
pense, and leave a 
color. 3. Take to in- 
^.? ' sligate from to im- 

•'-' poverish, and leave 

to fasten. 4. Take an insect from sloped, and leave 
something used in winter. 5. Take a club from argued, 
and leave an act. 6. Take to perform from a salt, and 
leave tardy. 7. Take a pronoun from whipped, and leave 
a small boy. 8. Take a sailor from gazing intently, and 
leave to carol. 9. Take a sphere from an alms-basket, 
and leave a metal cup. 10. Take consumed from revolves, 
and leave decays. 1 1 . Take a masculine nickname from 
sarcastic, and leave a salmon in his third year. 

All of the removed words contain three letters. When 
these are placed one below another, the central letters, 
reading downwards, will spell the name of an important 
document, signed on June 15, 1215. F. s. F. 

Romp eht sadtint cropit drants, 
Hewer eth wilbols, thrigb dan band!, 
Og pegcrine, licrung droun het psalm hwit twese tinaf 

Morf sit sidlef fo plugprin slowfer 
Slitl tew wiht frangart sweshor, 
Het phayp hutsodwiii, nilginger, wepses het loray bolsom 
fo nuje. 


I. Pertaining to the north. 2. A mountain nympli. 
3. To lease. 4. To consume gradually. 5. A Latin 
preposition. 6. In riddles. 


small particle. 5. A step. 6. The fruit of certain trees 
which grow in warm climates. 7. Sea-nymphs. 8. Two- 
thirds of gloomy. 9. In midsummer. 



Across: i. In midsummer. 2. A preposition. 3. The 
surname of a president who died on June 28. 4. A 

I. Upper Square: i. A small drum. 2. To wor- 
ship. 3. A kind of knife. 4. A large bay window. 
5. Vacillates. 

II. Left-hand Square: i. The point opposite the 
zenith. 2. An animal that has no feet. 3. A fish. 

4. Fanciful. 5. Staggers. 

III. Central Square: i. Dances. 2. Applause. 
3. To run away. 4. An error. 5. Precipitous. 

IV. Right-hand Square: i. To soak in a liquid. 
2. .\n ornament for the head. 3. Desirous. 4. Upright. 

5. Participator. 

V. Lower Square: i. To imbue. 2. The earth. 3. .\ 
parasitic fungus found on rye. 4. To eat into. 5. A 
plate on which consecrated bread is placed. 



I .\M composed of tw-elve letters. 

My 2-5-7 is on the cover of St. Nicholas. My 7-8- 
4-5-2-3-12 are worn by all readers of St. Nicholas. 
Mv 1 1 -2-7 is a name by which several readers of Si. 
Nicholas are called. My 11-6-10-4-2-S-12 is what we 
hope the readers of St. Nicholas are not. My i-ii- 
6-7 is in the nursery of some of the children who 
St. Nicholas. My 7- 10- 12-9- 10-3 is a city where 
many of the readers of St. Nicholas live. My 1-6-9- 
5-2-3 is what the readers of St. Nicholas like to lind 
in cake. My 4-8-11-3-12 is what boys and girls take in 
reading St. Nicholas. My 1-10-4-9-10-3 furnishes 
material for the pages of St. Nicholas. My 1-11-6- 
4-6-1-12 have praised St. Nicholas. 

My whole are so important that St. Nicholas could 
not get along without them, frank and Hermann k. 



(SEE PAGE 656.) 


Vol. XVIII. 

JULY, 1891. 

No. 9. 


During the autumn of 178-, the farmers given up without resistance, they were seldom 

along the north shore of Long Island suffered violent ; but if the owners refused to yield their 

much from the depredations of roving bands of goods, they did not stop at desperate measures 

plunderers known and feared as the " Whale- to obtain their ends or capture the coveted 

boat-men." booty. 

They were so called because, in their sudden Few dwellings anywhere near the coast had, 

raids upon the lonely coast farm-houses, they at the time our story opens, escaped their piracy ; 

employed the old whaling-boats of the "fishers and IMistress Judith P'orsy the often had her mis- 

'' along shore." Often, when the man of the givings that a house so well known to ofler rich 

house was away (sometimes when he was at plunder as Forsythe Place would not long be 

home, if he were known to be weak or cow- overlooked by the greedy eyes of the robbers, 
ardly), a household would be terrified by a call Both husband and son were fighting in the 

from the Whaleboat-men. patriot ranks, and the place was defenseless 

So long as the valuables they demanded were save for women. But the brave mother had 

Copyright, 1891, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 



secured doors and windows with extra bars and 
bolts when the men left, and had told her two 
fair daughters and the litde son who stayed, 
" We are strong enough to keep our home. If 
the British or these Whaleboat ruffians wish to 
fight women, let them come ! " 

Her determination became widely known. 
Reports spread abroad in the country that the 
house was a perfect arsenal, and the size and 
strength of its garrison grew in every repetition 
of the tale. 

Whatever the reason, the gray stone pile re- 
mained untouched. 

Maybe the presence of a British man-of-war 
in the channel just outside the cove had some- 
thing to do with it; for, excepting occasional 
excursions up and down the Sound, the great 
ship had lain there six months. 

Evelyn and Sally Forsythe took much inter- 
est in its movements, and had often gone down 
to the water's edge to see if it had disappeared 
in the night. So one morning when they asked 
their mother's permission to take a walk to the 
beach, she readily granted it. 

It was only half-past seven when they reached 
the shore, and before ascending the lookout hill, 
they stood there ten or fifteen minutes enjoying 
the beauty of the wind-swept, sunlit waters. 

To the left, the steep slope was crowned by a 
tall, gaunt-looking tree known for miles around 
as the " Watch Pine." Its gnarled trunk, with 
stumps of old branches sticking out like the 
rounds of a ladder, was bare of green for half 
its height. 

From the swaying top one could command a 
view of the island, the cove, and the sound for 
a great distance, and the old tree during the 
Revolution was frequently used as a watch-tower 
by spies and inquisitive people of both sides. 

The girls had not expected to find it in use at 
so early an hour, and were somewhat startled 
when they saw a black horse tied beside the 
road which ran past the foot of the hill. 

" A spy, Lyn ! " exclaimed Sally as they came 
to a stop ; " let 's go home ! " 

But the horse threw up its head with a glad 
whinny of recognition. 

"Oh, Ranger! It 's Ranger!" they cried 
with one voice, and unhesitatingly ran forward 
to greet and caress the beautiful animal. 


" But where 's Dick ? How did Ranger get 
here ? " 

" Here 's Dick! " answered a voice seemingly 
from the clouds; and looking up they beheld 
a tall boy of about eighteen descending the 
^Vatch Pine. 

" What news, Dick ? " asked Lyn, as their 
cousin came toward them with outstretched 

" 111 news, cousin ; my mother has broken her 
arm, and I am come for Aunt Judith to help 
nurse her." 

" Oh, Dick ! How did it happen ? " 

" Last night she stumbled on a rug at the 
head of the stairs, and her arm caught in the 
railing as she fell." 

"Oh, Dick!" 

" She is feeling easier now. The bone is set ; 
but Dr. Pettit says the shock has made her ill, 
and that is w-hy he wants Aunt Judith." 

" Mama must make ready at once," cried 
Sally. " May I take Ranger and ride ahead 
to tell her, Dick?" 

" Yes, but don't frighten your mother. Ran- 
ger 's well tired by this time. He 's done his 
twenty miles since a quarter past five this 

" How you must have ridden ! " said L)'n, as 
the younger sister cantered oft". 

Dick and Lyn had almost reached the house 
when she remembered the English man-of-war 
and asked him if he had seen it. 

" No," he answered. " The first thing I 
noticed was that she had gone. I used my 
glass" — producing a small field-glass — "but 
could not make out a trace of her, though I did 
make one discovery." 

" What was that ? " 

" There 's a very suspicious-looking vessel in 
the creek on the other side of the cove. I 
made out some rough-looking men aboard." 

" Whaleboat-men ? " 

" I Jiope not, but it is more than probable." 

Just then they entered the gate, and in the 
bustle of preparation for Mrs. Forsythe's de- 
parture the Whaleboat-men were forgotten. 

While the chaise stood waiting, Mrs. Forsythe 
bade her children and the maids good-by, with 
many parting injunctions. 

" Be especially careful about closing up the 


house at night," she said to Lyn. " Sally, you 
and Ralph must take care of the stable and 
keep the dogs in the hall. Put the silver care- 
fully away, Lyn ; you know where it is safe. 
And, Charity" (to the old nurse), ''you must 
oversee all and keep the house in its customary 

Thus finishing, she was about to enter the 
chaise, when the memory of the \vicked-looking 
boat in the creek recurred to Dick, and he laid 
his hand on her arm. 


The mother had been gone about twenty 
minutes when little Ralph proposed to secure 
the house and stables immediately. 

" You would n't want them to run away w ith 
Ranger, Dick," he said. 

The black horse had been patiently waiting 
while the children talked of the Whaleboat- 

"They 'd have to kill me first," replied Dick, 
emphatically. " Come, Ranger ! " and he and 
Ralph proceeded to lock and bar him up in a 

' mA - 



" Well, Richard ? " 

" Aunt, shall I stay with the girls ? " 

The lady paused and scanned his face. She 
trusted the boy thoroughly and saw immediately 
that he had reason for asking. 

'■ Stay," she replied, promptly. " Kate, get 
your bonnet and cloak and come with me." 
Then, turning to Dick, '• I will tell your mother 
why you remained. I am sure she will be glad 
you are with them." 

The maid came out and they drove oft", leav- 
ing, besides the four young people and the nurse, 
the cook and chambermaid. 

way so very tight and safe that one would have 
thought they were preparing for an attack by a 
regiment of grenadiers. 

All four spent the rest of the morning in still 
further fortifying the house. No door nor win- 
dow was neglected. The center hall fairly 
bristled with guns, knives, and powder-horns. 

The boys brought up a keg of gunpowder 
and another of bullets from some hiding-place 
in the cellar. 

■' Now let them come ! " declared Sally, boldly ; 
" I '11 fire a gun myself." 

They were quite busy till supper time, and 


the tea-table was a very lively one. They felt 
much inclined to laugh at themselves for their 
extreme precautions ; and except for the anxiety 
about Dick's mother, and the safe journey of 
their own, they would have had the jolliest time 
in the world. 

After supper the old nurse, who had taken tea 
with them, brought in a dish of apples and a jug 
of cider, and they sat around the open fire and 
told stories. 

Every now and then a silence stole upon the 
merry group, and the firelight seemed to throw 
serious shadows over the young faces. 

Thoughts would come of the father and 
brother away at the war, of the sick woman, of 
the absent mother. 

It was during one of these silences that they 
became aware of a strange noise far down the 
road. They listened intently. 

Yes, it was coming nearer — a sound of hoarse 
voices screeching and laughing was soon distin- 
guishable. They sprang up, looking at each 
other with frightened eyes, and little Ralph 
showed a strong disposition to cry. 

" We did n't fasten the front door, after all," 
cried Dick, breaking the fearful stillness, " and 
they 've come ! " 

They all made a dash for the door. As the 
last bar clicked into place, a bright idea flashed 
into Sally's head. 

" Let 's light up the house," said she, " and 
they may think it 's filled and pass us by." 

Her proposal was received with ajsplause ; 
the terror-stricken maids, who had rushed into 
the hall at the first alarm, were pressed into 
service, and even the nurse responded bravely. 

In those days, when shops were far distant 
from the lonely country houses, large stores of 
groceries were purchased at a time, so several 
boxes of candles were found in the cellar, and in 
five minutes the house was a blaze of light. 

They stood in the hall a (ew moments waiting 
in breathless silence. 

Nearer and nearer — that horrible yell! — it 
could be no other. The Whaleboat-men 1 

Raljjh threw his arms around Lyn, too fright- 
ened 10 cry, and she held the little fellow to her 
with trembling hands. 

The noise suddenly ceased. The men had 
seen the light streaming in broad bands from the 


upper part of every window, and paused. The 
children knew by the last shouts they had heard 
that the men could not be farther away than 
the gates. 

" We Must make some noise ! " cried Dick in 
desperation, looking around upon the trembling 
women and girls. " They '11 see through the 
sham in a minute ! " 

One of the maids burst out crj-ing, and 
Ralph's lip began to quiver ominously ; it 
looked much as if they were going to have 
jjlenty of noise, such as it was I 

" If we could only sing something," quavered 

" Well, let 's do it, then," rejoined Lyn, with 
sudden courage. " Dick, open my harpsichord, 

She was surprised at her own strength as she 
commenced a ringing, liberty camp-song. The 
others joined in bravely. Before they were half 
through, all noises outside had ceased, and Dick 
stopped for a moment to listen. 

"Yes, they must have gone," he said to him- 
self as he again began singing with surprising 
cheerfulness and vigor. 

Almost before they finished the last verse he 
broke in, "They 're gone! " 

"Gone? So quickly! "the girls cried joyously, 

A thundering bang at the door answered 
them. The young people sprang to their feet. 
Again the hall fairly shook beneath the force of 
the blow. 

"Into the dining-room! For your lives!" 
shouted Dick. 

Lyn snatched a gun and powder-horn from the 
rack as she went, and Dick, gathering as much 
as his arms could hold, followed. They made 
another dash into the hall for powder and shot, 
and then closed the massive oaken door of the 
dining-room, hastily barricading it with chairs 
and tables. 

They had barely put these in position when — 
crash ! in fell the great front door ! 

Dick wrenched oft" the knob of the dining- 
room door antl, j)lacing the muzzle of his gun in 
the aperture, fired into the hall. Then, as fast 
as the girls could load, one gun after another 
took uj) the defense. 

An hour before the first shout of the Whale- 


boat-men had warned the children, half-a-dozen 
young British officers of marines were returning 
on horseback from a day ashore under the 
charge of their colonel. 

Some of them were mere boys, and the party 
was a jolly one. So, as they were chasing a 
rabbit while it was still light, they passed the 
branch road which led to their landing, and by 
mistake turned down another. 

" Well, boys, we 're in a pretty fix," said 
Colonel Osborne when their plight was discov- 
ered. " What are we going to do about it ? " 

" Seize the first native that comes along and 
get our bearings," proposed the youngest of the 

And just then the material for this experiment 
made an appearance in the shape of a big, 
raw-boned longshoreman. 

" Hello there, Yankee ! Hold up a bit ! " 
cried the adviser, and rode his horse at the man 
as if he would run him down. 

The longshoreman dodged, but the young 
officer, leaning over, grasped his long hair and 
hauled him up short. 

" I 'm mindin' my own business ; you mind 
your'nl" sullenly muttered the man, and with 
an eel-like wriggle he escaped his captor's 

" Now, Trevor, enough of this ! " cried the 
Colonel. " Look here, my man ; all we want 
of you are directions to the nearest road leading 
to Southard's Landing." 

"Why 'n't ye say so first?" responded the 
man readily. " Southard's Landin' is doo nor- 
west f 'm here, right over yonder ; nex' road but 
one to the left. Ye passed it, comin'." 

" Thanks," said the Colonel — he paused and 
looked into the man's guileless face for a mo- 
ment as if searching for marks of deceit ; but 
the longshoreman met his gaze unconcernedly, 
only remarking inquisitively as they turned their 
horses and rode oft", " Rather late, ain't ye ? " 

But no sooner had the last horseman galloped 
well beyond hearing than a most remarkable 
change stole over his calm face and quiet form. 
At first a low chuckle rolled from his deep 
throat, but by degrees all mirth died out of the 
clear blue eyes, and as the last of the riders 
disappeared around the curve he shook his fist 
menacingly after them and shouted joyously, 

" It '11 be later yet afore ye '11 reach Southard's 
Landin' by that road ! " 

And turning, he vaulted over the hedge and 
was lost to sight from the highway. 

As for the horsemen, they followed the long- 
shoreman's directions and cantered swiftly down 
the branch road. 

They had been riding for almost an hour, 
and for a long time there had been silence, 
when one remarked : '• Colonel, I did n't ex- 
actly like the looks of that longshoreman." 

" Why did n't you say so sooner, Morris ? " 
answered Colonel Osborne, in rather an irritated 
tone of voice. 

" I don't see any of the houses we saw this 
morning. Colonel, and it seems to me that it 's 
time we did," said another. 

" You would n't know them if you ran into 
them, in this blackness," put in Trevor, who had 
not yet sobered down. " Hey, fellows ! Is n't 
that a noise of firing over there ? " He reined 
up his horse at the entrance to a sort of avenue 
at right angles to the road they were on. 

" Shots ! There 's some kind of a skirmish 
going on. Come, gentlemen ! " exclaimed the 
Colonel, " we must look into this matter." 

And down the avenue they flew, putting the 
poor, jaded horses to their best speed. 

The great front gate to the driveway was open 
and in they rode. The Whaleboat-men, intent 
on their prey, never even heard them until the 
horsemen dashed into the mob with a ringing 

" Shoot right and left, boys ! " shouted the 
Colonel, taking in the situation at a glance. 

The children within had heard the cheer, 
and in the moment's surprised silence among 
the Whaleboat-men the sharp command of 
Colonel Osborne was distinctly audible. 

"Hurrah! It 's help! "shouted Dick. "\\'e're 
all right now ! " 

" Don't open the door yet, Dick," cried Lyn, 
" but help me tear away the shutter in front of 
this window ; the shooting seems to come from 
the other side." 

'■ Good for you, Lyn ! Let 's help ourselves ! " 
Dick answered ; and they rapidly cleared away 
the furniture from a window. 

When it was cleared, both Dick and Lyn took 
guns and, as fast as the others loaded, aimed 


carefully at the disorderly attacking party, which 
could be easily distinguished by its position 
nearer the house, and by the yells which rose 
from its ranks as its members fell back under 
the combined fire of rescuers and besieged. 

Unable to stand this cross-fire, in five min- 
utes every Whaleboat-man capable of running 
was fleeing across the fields at the top of his 
speed, leaving the wounded where they lay. 

But Lyn, standing on an armchair in the 
window, with the full blaze of the tapers light- 
ing up her fair, eager face, and the smoking 
gun resting on the upper sash, never thought 
of her conspicuous position until cheer after 
cheer from the horsemen, heartily assisted by 
Dick, enlightened her ; then, looking pleased 
but somewhat confused, she jumped down. 

The courteous old Colonel, hat in hand, 
appeared on the threshold as the dining-room 
door swung open, and begged Dick to request 
the ladies not to enter the hall and to keep the 
door closed until all traces of the skirmish were 
removed. They closed the door again. 

" And now, Dick, we girls must n't be seen 
looking this way," said Sally, gazing at their torn 
apparel and powder-begrimed faces. " We '11 
go up the back stairs and dress." But before 
they went they told the maids to prepare a 
simple lunch. " They '11 be sure to be hungry," 
said the wise Sally. 

Lyn looked around for Ralph. He had fallen 
sound asleep in the big armchair by the fire- 
place, in the midst of all that noise ! 

The girls had just finished dressing, after put- 
ting the child to bed, when the maid came up, 
and said : " Miss Lyn, the Colonel says, ' His 
compliments, and the hall is clear.' " 


Evelyn was quite calm outwardly, but within 
there was a great flutter. Plucking up courage, 
she took Sally's hand. The candles were still 
burning brightly in the hall, lighting up the 
stairway as the two girls came down. 

Dick waited below with Colonel Osborne, and 
the young officers stood back of them. When 
they reached the lowest step he presented the 
Colonel, "just as if we were grown up," said 
Sally afterward, and the Colonel bowed with the 
same courtly dignity he would have shown to 
the grandest dame. 

Then the young officers, one after the other, 
were introduced, and the girls, borne up by ex- 
citement, lost all nervousness. It was the great 
evening of their lives. And Dick — they had 
never known what a man Dick was. " Not 
one of the officers to be compared with Dick ! " 
they declared, " fine as they were." 

All three entirely forgot the fact that these 
guests and deliverers were enemies. They were 
so kind, so anxious to make them lose the 
memory of the fearful hour before, that Sally 
insisted, " They w ere the nicest enemies one 
could have ! " And when, next morning, they 
rode away, the little " Rebels " felt as if they 
were saying good-by to old friends. 

But, before they went. Colonel Osborne prom- 
ised the girls in the name of his general that 
the Whaleboat raids should be put an end to. 
And he kept his word. Forsythe Place was the 
last on the north shore to suffer at the hands of 
the Whaleboat-men. 

A (ew days later, Dick's mother being better, 
Mrs. Forsythe came home, and heard with grave 
anxiety the story of the siege and with thank- 
fulness of the timely rescue by the enemy. 


Bv Anna M. Pr.\tt. 

The sparrow told it to the robin. 
The robin told it to the wren. 
Who passetl it on, with sweet remark, 
To thrush, and bobolink, and lark, 
The news that dawn had come again. 


Extending north from Long's Peak, in Colo- 

Bv Frederick Funston. 

sheer for hundreds of feet. Here and there 
are masses of hard packed snow, while in a 
sheltered spot on the south side of some cliff 
grow tinv alpine flowers and dwarf grasses — 
the food of the wary big-horn sheep, which still 
frequent this range in considerable numbers. 

Comparatively few persons have explored 
these, the grandest of all the Rockies. Distance 
from railroads and the total absence of the 
rado, the Front Range or Continental Divide precious metals have left the range uninhabited, 
comprises a chain of stupendous peaks reach- the nearest settlers being the scattered ranch- 
ing into the clouds, and covered even in summer men in Estes Park. 

with great fields of snow and ice. This range, But few tourists have had the hardihood to 
cut up by gorges and chasms thousands of feet scale the great peaks of this chain and risk life 
in depth, which reach into it from the valleys by exposure to the storms which almost con- 
on both sides, presents \dews of rugged gran- stantly sweep them ; though notably one, Mr. 
deur excelled by none in the entire Rocky Frederick H. Chapin of Hartford, Conn., spent 
Mountain region. Many have compared them several summers in this region, and has given 
favorably with the world-famed glories of the us his experiences in a charming book.* 
Alps and Caucasus. Great peaks thirteen thousand feet in height 

Below '■ timber-line," which in this region is have never been scaled, dark chasms and gorges 
at about eleven thousand feet elevation, the are yet unexplored, and mountains higher than 
sides of the mountains are covered with a dense Mount Katahdin piled upon Mount Washington 
growth of spruce, which gives way in the lower have never been deemed worthy of a name, 
valleys to the yellow-pine and quaking-ash. It was only a few years ago that the writer 
These grand forests have never been ravaged and a single companion, Mr. V. L. Kellogg, 
by fires nor marred by the woodman's ax; and now an associate professor in the Universit)- of 
in their gloomy depths the mule-deer, moun- Kansas, stood on the summit of Table Moun- 
tain-hon, and cinnamon-bear roam undisturbed tain, a great elevation about six miles north of 
by fear of man. Long's Peak. Gazing down into the awful 

Above timber-line the mountains rise from gorge which separates the mountain we were 
two to three thousand feet more — in some places on from Stone's Peak, we marveled at its awful 
gende slopes covered with huge granite boul- depths and precipitous sides, and resolved some 
ders, and in others cliffs and crags rising almost day to explore it together, and to follow to its 
'"Mountaineering in Colorado." University Press, Cambridge, 1889. 



source the turbulent little stream that flowed at 
the bottom. 

The wished-for opportunity came sooner than 
we had dared to hope, and May, 1890, found us 
again in Estes Park prepared to attack the Front 

The winter of 18S9-90 will be long remem- 
bered by the inhabitants of the Rocky Mountain 
region for its great severity and unusual snow- 
fall. The mild spring sunshine had made lit- 
tle impression on the great drifts which covered 
the mountains and filled the upper forests; and 
gazing on them from the valley on a bright May 
morning, it seemed to us that mountains had 
never looked grander. Long's Peak, rearing 
his great cap fourteen thousand three hundred 
feet in air, was a mass of immaculate glittering 
white, broken only by the black cliff on the 
northeast front ; the perfect cone of Mount Hal- 
lett was as white as the drifting cloud through 
"which it peered ; while Stone's Peak, a beauti- 
ful mountain thirteen thousand eight hundred 
feet in height, showed not a speck of brown 
through its wintry covering. 

Despite the arctic surroundings, Kellogg and 
I determined to explore the great chasm with- 
out delay, though the old stage-driver to whom 
we broached our project shook his head omi- 
nously and said : 

" Boys, wait until the sun has hammered that 
snow for six weeks longer; even then it won't 
be any picnic." 

But we were not to be scared out by a litde 
snow. We had roamed over those mountains 
before, and more than once had been brought 
face to face with death by exposure or starva- 
tion but had always come out with little harm. 

We soon procured the obstinate, mouse-col- 
ored little mule that had carried our jjacks on 
previous occasions ; put " on board " blankets, 
cooking utensils, and three days' provisions, and 
immediately after dinner set out on an expedi- 
tion, the recollection of which, as I look back 
on it, seems more a horrible nightmare than 
a reality. 

It is needless to tell the story of the first after- 
noon's tramp — of the fruitless efforts of " Billy," 
the burro, to throw off his pack, and his almost 
human .shamming of lameness when the steep 
ascent began. 

Suffice it to say that for six long hours we 
plodded up the lonely trail and, just before the 
daylight began to fade, found a suitable camp- 
ing place among the dense spruces near the 
entrance to the great chasm which was to be 
the .scene of the next day's trials and sufferings. 

The night was passed in a state of mild terror, 
caused by the presence of a mountain-lion, which 
prowled about camp for .several hours, and was 
kept at a safe distance only by a blazing fire. 

The next morning, at five o'clock, we crawled 
out of our blankets, and an hour later resumed 
the journey, leaving Billy to watch the camp 
and meditate upon the follies of his past life. 
With no encumbrance but our guns, we made 
good progress, and soon reached the entrance 
of the gorge, and for two hours followed up the 
little rivulet at the bottom. It was a weird, 
uncanny place. The growth of spruce was so 
dense that it seemed the damp, mossy ground 
could never have had a good look at the sun- 

Here and there we passed little banks of last 
winter's snow, and soon crossed the base of a 
great field which we could see extended up the 
sloping sides of Table Mountain to the 
summit. Of this snow-field more anon. 

Onward and upward we pushed, crossing and 
recrossing the noisy little stream, now and then 
walking over the crust of a big snow-drift, and 
occasionally falling in waist-deep when we came 
to a soft place. 

As we ascended, the gorge narrowed to about 
three hundred yards and the sides became much 
steeper. The spruce-trees here were dwarfed 
and gnarled old fellows that had battled bravely 
for years against the snow and ice of their storm- 
beaten home, and had not yet given u]) the 
struggle. We were now only a short tlistance 
below timber-line, and a few hundred feet above 
us not a green sprig showed above the glittering 
white of the snow or the somber brown of the 

A little higher we followed the bottom of the 
gorge ; but there were now no rocks to walk 
on, nothing but snow from ten to twenty feet 
dee]) — acres and acres of it. The direct rays 
of the sun, which was now high in the heavens, 
had softened the crust, and we broke through 
at nearly every step. 


The fatigue of floundering through the snow, 
together with the rarity of the atmosphere, for 
we were now eleven thousand feet up, was 
))eginning to tell on our strength. We deter- 
mined to leave the gorge and push up to the 
left on the sides of Table Mountain, where we 
judged, and, as it proved, correctly, that the 
crust of the snow would be stronger. 

A sharp, hard struggle of ten minutes brought 
us above the stunted growth 
at timber-line, where we sat 
down to recover wind and 
strength, and eat our noon 

Up to this time not a 
cloud had crossed the sky ; 
b)ut now, as we looked toward 
Stone's Peak, Kellogg called 
my attention to a feathery, 
foamy mass which had rolled 
up over the range and, drop- 
ping almost to a level with 
us, scudded down the chasm 
before the rising wind. It 
was an ominous sign, and 
we finished our meal in 
nervous haste. Presently another and larger 
cloud came boiling over the pass at the head 
of the chasm, and followed closely in its 
leader's wake. For only a moment we watched 
the dark shadows they cast moving over the 
spruce forest, and rose to our feet just as two 
more clouds came over into the gorge. 

The wind, which had been rising for an hour, 
moaned and whistled among the crags; and the 
mutterings of distant thunder could be heard 
from the west side of the range. 

By this time, though little had been said, both 
realized full well the meaning of this turmoil : 
we were to be caught among the clouds in a 
mountain storm. 

There was no further thought of exploring the 
gorge. All our strength and time must now be 
used in reaching camp. 

Should we go down into the gorge and get 
out the way we had come in, or should we go 
farther up and avoid the tangle of fallen trees 
and the treacherous drifts below ? Higher up 
on the mountain the snow was packed harder 
and would afford better footing ; and that way 


we started without delay, our object being to 
work around the north side of the mountain 
and reach the old trail on the east side. Up 
and up we scrambled over the snow and rocks. 

The wind was now blowing a terrific gale, and 
above us, below us, and around us, the clouds 
were being driven before it. 

The storm was gathering over the whole 
range. Mummy Mountain and Hague's Peak, 

fifteen miles away, were enveloped in a mass of 
gray mist ; while the thunder boomed and rolled 
over Estes Park from a black cloud which was 
deluging the lower valleys with rain. Stone's 
Peak, looming up through an occasional rift 
in the clouds, was a sight of awe-inspiring 

Despite the difficulties of the way and the 
surrounding storm, we made good progress up- 
ward, and in half an hour turned to the left and 
began working along the side of the mountain. 






slow, as we had not 
yet reached the 
great snow-field 
extending from 
timber-line to the 
summit, the base 
of which we had 
crossed in ascend- 
ing the gorge. i)n 
and on we stag- 
gered, feeling our 
way over the slip- 
pery surface, and 
becoming weaker 
every moment from 
the hard struggle 
in the rarefied air 
of the mountain 

While stumbling 
over a mass of ice- 
covered boulders, 
I heard an excited 
exclamation and, 
looking up, saw 

FROM THE lev BLAST. " ^ , * 

Kellogg sink down 

Here our trials began in earnest. The storm behind a rock which afforded a slight shelter 

was upon us in all its fury. The wind blew from the icy blast. 

almost a hurricane, and the air was so filled with When I reached him he looked up and said, 

sleet and fine snow that it was impossible to see " Old boy, this is the worst box we were ever 

more than twenty yards in any direction. There in. I guess we 're at the end of our rope ! " 

would be an occasional lull in the tumult, when Both realized that the situation was desper- 

we could take in our surroundings for a moment, ate, almost hopeless. There was no sign of 

but another cloud would envelop us and fill the abatement of the storm, and weakened and 

air with driving torrents of frozen mist. enfeebled as we were by the long struggle, if 

Hour after hour we struggled on with the we should not be able to cross the steep snow- 
nervous, frantic energy born of desperation. field when we reached it, death from exhaus- 

The rocks and snow were covered with ice tion and exposure would be a matter of only 

thin as tissue paper, which caused many a a few hours. 

hard fall, and made every step a source of peril. Wc dreaded to think of that snow-field, 

The force of the wind, too, threw us down con- remembering how steep it had looked as we 

tinually, and we were bruised from head to foot, gazed upward from the bottom that morning. 

If we had carried steel-pointed poles instead of and knowing the condition it must be in now 

guns, they would have been of great service ; with the newly formed ice on the surface. How- 

the latter were now as much hindrance as help, ever, it was thought best to rest a short time, 

though we were soon to find them useful. and I lay down by Kellogg. 

Our hands and faces suffered terribly from the After a rest of about fifteen minutes we re- 
bitter cold, and the former were so numb that sumed the struggle, weak as before and much 
we dropped our guns repeatedly. Hair and colder ; but we had recovered our wind, a hard 
clothing were matted with ice like a coat of thing to keep at this altitude. 
mail. We realized that our progress was very It was now four o'clock — ten hours since we 


66 1 

left camp, and four since the struggle with the 
storm began. The battle for life could not last 
much longer. 

Slowly and painfully we pushed forward, 
crawling on all-fours most of the time. I 
chewed savagely on a piece of tough grouse, 
the only remains of our dinner. 

Would we ever reach the snow-field ? A hor- 
rible thought crossed my mind. What if we 
had lost the direction and were going the wrong 
way ? I did not mention my fears to Kellogg. 
What was the use ? 

Every few moments we sank down on our 
faces to recover our breath. At such times I 
found my mind wandering and could not think 
clearly. Kellogg made several 
remarks without any particular 
meaning, and his face had a 
vacant, sullen look. Almost the 
last ray of hope was gone. 
There was no complaining, no 
whining, only a sort of mad des- 
peration which made us resolve 
to keep moving to the last. 

Finally, through a rift in the 
clouds not fifty yards ahead, we 
saw the spotless white of the 
long-looked-for snow-field. 

With a feeble shout \\'e 
pushed for^vard, but when we 
reached its edge our worst fears 
were realized. It was terribly 
steep, being at an angle of 
about forty degrees, and the 
crust was a coating of hard, slip- 
pery ice, the thickness of paste- 
board. Through a break in the 
clouds we saw that it extended 
downward to timber-line, fully 
1500 feet, as steep as the roof 
of a house and smoother than 
the smoothest glass. How broad 
it was we could only conjecture. 

As we came up, Kellogg struck 
the crust with the butt of his 
gun, and I threw a rock upon 
the surface, which went sliding and boundin; 
down the steep face with terrific \elocity. 

We looked at each other in despair. '• It ' 
no use," I said. 

" Not a bit," was the answer. 

We sat down and talked it over. To retrace 
our steps was out of the question, and we could 
not climb to the top of the field, probably a 
thousand feet, in our weakened condition. 

Suddenly Kellogg leaped to his feet and 
rushed toward the slippery mass, crying out, 
" Come on, we 've got to do it. I '11 take mine 
this way." Without a second thought, in my 
hopeless desperation I followed. By using his 
gun as a brace Kellogg kept his feet; but I 
slipped and fell on all-fours and began sliding 
down. In a wild frenzy I tried to drive my 
bare fingers through the crust, but only suc- 
ceeded in tearing the skin off them. 

Luckily, I had retained my title, and by a 
frantic effort drove it muzzle first through the 
hard crust and came to a stop, having gone 
about twenty feet. Had it not been for this 




fortunate move my body would have been 
hurled to the bottom of the gorge more than a 
thousand feet below, and mangled beyond all 
semblance of human form. 

Looking up at my companion I saw that he 
had turned away his head, unwilling to be a 
witness of my horrible fate ; but as 1 called out 
to him he looked around, and I saw a face 
so white and horror-stricken that I can never 
forget it. Cold beads of sweat stood on my 
forehead, and I felt that my courage was all 
gone. The experience of that awful moment 
almost unnerved me, and I was weak and 
helpless as a little child. 

L}-ing on my face I held on tightly to the 
rifle driven deep through the crust. How to re- 
gain my footing was a puzzle. Kellogg started 
to come down to me, and it was with difficulty 
that I persuaded him to desist. 

At last I hit on a plan. Holding on to the 
rifle with one hand, with the other I drew my 
pocket-knife, and, opening it with my teeth, cut 
two holes in the crust for my feet, and after 
much effort stood upright. But we were still in 
a bad fix. Kellogg called out to me to break 
holes through the crust for my feet with the butt 
of the gun. Although not more than twenty 
feet distant he could hardly make himself heard 
above the roar of the storm. 

But the suggestion was a good one and 
proved our salvation. We moved slowly for- 
ward, breaking a hole in the ice for each step. 
It was severe treatment to give valuable guns, 
but they had to suffer in the best interests of 
their owners. 

Slowly and carefully we moved forward, occa- 
sionally stopping to rest and speak words of 
encouragement to each other, for now we had 
the first gleam of hope for five long, terrible 

Although very weak physically, our minds 
were much clearer than an hour before, and 
we even went so far as to chaff each other a 
Httle. But we had plenty of fears yet. Once 
my heart leaped as Kellogg slipped and came 
down on both knees, clawing frantically at the 
air; but he regained his feet without difficulty, 
and we pushed on. Would we ever get across ? 
Ever)' minute seemed an hour. 

Kellogg said that, as nearly as he could cal- 

culate, we had been floundering about on that 
man-trap for a week ! 

But we kept going ; the end must come some 
time, and sure enough it did ; and at .six o'clock 
we stepped on the granite boulders again, hav- 
ing been just one hour and ten minutes on that 
terrible, inclined snow-field. Neither of us was 
much given to demonstration, but there was a 
hearty hand-shake and a few things said which 
sounded all right up there, but might look a 
little foolish in print. 

The wind had moderated, and the clouds had 
now settled far below us, while the sun, nearly 
down, lighted up the surrounding mountains 
and snow-fields with a sort of a radiant glor)-. 
But the grandest picture was in the east : Below 
us, over the spruce forest, over \\"illow Park, 
and far away Estes Park, was a tossing, rolling 
ocean of foamy clouds, their upper sides glis- 
tening in creamy and golden light from the 
rays of the setting sun. To the right the great 
mass of Long's Peak and the shattered crags of 
Lily Mountain towered above the burnished sea. 

It was a grand picture — such as only those 
who have the hardihood to climb the highest 
mountains can hope to look upon. Any at- 
tempt of art to imitate them can be but mere 

But it was not to last long. The clouds 
drifted oft" over the foot-hills, and there were none 
to take their places ; and then we saw, far below, 
the world that we had almost gi\en up forever ; 
and as we stood there it looked to us grander 
than any picture of sun-burnished clouds and 
snow-covered peaks. We were glad to have 
another chance at it. But we were not there 
yet. After a good rest we started again just as 
the sun was sinking below the horizon. 

Compared with what we had been in before, 
the walking was good, though a discriminating 
person would not have preferred it to asphalt 

Just as darkness was setting over the range 
we reached the head of the trail at timber-line. 
Here, there was some more hard floundering 
through snow-drifts and plenty of falling over 
prostrate tree-trunks. But we soon left behind 
the last snow-dritt and ice- covered boulder, and 
hurried through the forest down the trail — easy 
to keep even in the darkness. Once we heard 


the long-drawn scream of a mountain-lion, but 
only slipped cartridges into our guns and kept 
on. We were in no mood now to be frightened 
by such small fry as a mountain-lion. 

Finally, at nine o'clock, weary, hungry, and 
bruised, we staggered into the camp that we 
had left fifteen hours before — a terrible day in 
which we had more real experience than many 
people get in a lifetime. 

Our great equine freak, Billy, was on the 
alert, and greeted us with such a series of whin- 
nies that we feared he was trying something 
new in solos. 

We built a fire and prepared supper with the 
usual accessor)- of strong coffee, and at eleven 
o'clock were asleep under wet blankets. But 
it was a glorious sleep, and when the sunshine 


woke us the next morning we felt greatly 
refreshed, though still very weak and stift'. 

After breakfast we repacked the burro, and 
started for camp in Estes Park. Billy did not 
need any urging now and showed great enthu- 
siasm in jumping over fallen trees ; so much, in 
fact, that he threw himself down continually. 

At eleven o'clock we reached camp, and spent 
the next few days in resting and eating with 
commendable energy. 

We determined hereafter to heed the advice 
of the old stage-driver and '■ let the sun ham- 
mer that snow six weeks longer" before we tried 
any more mountain climbing. 

For my own part, I am willing to let him 
hammer it six centuries longer before repeat- 
ing that experience. 



She had lingered long by the window-pane. 
And watched with her childish, impatient eyes 

The countless drops of the beating rain. 
And the leaden, relentless skies. 

At length, when the dreary day was done, 

She told her thoughts, in the twilight gray ; 
■ You know there 's a bureau in Washington, 
Where weather is stowed away. 

■ And when it 's so stormy and cold and wet, 

I wonder what they are thinking about, 
Not to open some other drawer and get 
A different weather out ! " 


By J. T. Trowbridge. 

{lie^in in the Nmu-mbernumber. 

Chapter XXXIV. 


Mr. Allerton was 
a man of good inten- 
tions, and he had given 
the birds to Bertha with- 
out any unkind motive. 
He was well away from 
the door before the 
idea occurred to him 
that, to her brother, 
such a reminder of his 
wrongdoing, daily be- 
fore his eyes, might not 
be agreeable. 

" But perhaps it will 
be wholesome for him," 
he reflected, as he 
walked on ; with the 
feeling clinging to him, 
Tiowever, that he had 
been a trifle indiscreet. 

Toby was still more 
indiscreet when, half an 
hour later, he fell in 
with Tom's companions. 
He had returned to the 
wharf, and was busy 
arranging his moorings, 
when Yellow Jacket's 
boat came down the 
lake. After landing 
Tom at the foot of the 

lane, it crossed over, to set Lick Stevens ashore " Your wharf can stand it, if the public is 
at the foot of Water street. good-natured enough to let it alone," said Lick. 

"Why don't you use my wharf? You're " Everybody knows it's where it has no right 
welcome," said Toby. to be." 

" We don't want nothin' of you nor your Toby had made the offer of his wharf with 
wharf," Yellow Jacket replied, running his boat sincere good-will. But now he was nettled at 
on the gravel, while Lick Stevens stepped lightly the churlish reply, 
ashore, with a malicious smile curling his lip. " Oh, put a stop to your silliness ! " he said 

" All right," cried Toby gaily. " I and my contemptuously, 
wharf can stand it, if you and your boat can." " You '11 find out whether it 's silliness or 




66 s 

not," Lick retorted, " if you and your wharf hap- 
pen to get unpopular." 

" That 's so," struck in Yellow Jacket. " A 
])art of it is in the street ; and the other part is 
in the street, too, for the town-right runs into 
the lake." 

It was evident that Toby and his affairs had 
been talked over by his acquaintances, since 
his unfortunate encounter with them on the 
lakeside lot. He fired up with resentment, 
which was foolish enough ; and he conde- 
scended to show his irritation, which was even 
more foolish. 

"Whether my wharf has a right here or not," 
he said, " it 's here, and I 'd like to see anybody 
who claims a right to meddle with it. As for 
the lake, there are a good many things in it you 
can't get out, with all your bragging. Josh Pat- 
terson ! How about Tom Tazwell's gun ? " 

" I could get that if anybody could," replied 
Yellow Jacket ; " but it 's down in the mud 
where nothin' but dredging will fetch it." 

" You 're sin-e it 's in the mud ? " said Toby, 
erect on his wharf. 

" I k7ioiu it is," said Yellow Jacket, pushing 
off in his boat. 

" What '11 you bet ? " 

" I '11 bet my boots." 

Toby stood with his hands in his pockets, 

•' Well, then, fling 'em ashore and go bare- 
foot. The gun you could n't get with all your 
diving, Mr. Allerton and I found and fished 
up in about fifteen minutes." 

Lick Stevens scoffed. Yellow Jacket looked 

" That 's a whopper ! " said Butter Ball, stand- 
ing in the boat — a ridiculous figure, with his 
fat cheeks and his a.ssumption of importance, 
his short, round body and insignificant legs. 

'• You 're a whopper yourself — you puff-ball 
on two pegs I " returned Toby, gay again with 
a sense of triumph. " Go and ask Tom. He 
is home by this time ; but the gun was there 
before him." 

" Did you dive for it ? " asked Lick Stevens, 
jeering incredulously. 

'•Dive? No! What's the use of diving?" 
said Toby. " There was the gun, plain as any- 
thing, sticking in the mud ; and all we had to 
Vol. XVTII.— 48. 

do was to wind a stout fish-line around it and 
haul it up." 

" That was before -lue tried for it, then," said 
Yellow Jacket. 

" No, sir. It was after you had spent half the 
afternoon trying for it. And wc don't pretend 
to be smarter than all creation." 

Toby could n't forbear the taunt, which went 
to the heart of the vain and sensitive boaster. 
All that Yellow Jacket could fling back was a 
coarse accusation of falsehood, accompanied by 
a lurid look out of his tawny eyes, as he pulled 

" I 'm going right up to Tom's now," said 
Lick Stevens, " to see how big a one you 've 
been telling." 

" That 's just what I advise you to do," replied 
Toby, " and tell him the sooner he scours out 
his gun the better. It was beginning to rust 

" You tell it pretty well ! " said Lick with a 
grin over his shoulder, as he started off swinging 
his rifle. 

'• That 's just what you said of Tom, when 
you thought he was fooling you about that 
twenty-dollar bill. You 're about as true a 
friend of his as you are of mine — or as you are 
of anybody's ! " Toby cried, raising his voice to 
be heard above the sound of Lick's departing 
footsteps crunching the gravel. 

Then, when the ardor of battle was over, and 
he was left alone, he began to reflect upon the 
imprudence into which he had been betrayed 
by his too quick temper. 

" I suppose I have made enemies of all of 
them 1 " he said to himself ruefully. " But it 
can't be helped now." 

He noticed that Lick stopped to speak with 
a stranger he met on the beach, then walked 
on. The stranger seemed to hesitate a moment ; 
then he approached Toby. He was evitlently 
a newly arrived patron of one of the summer 
boarding-houses. The question he asked gave 
Toby a wonderful thrill. 

" Can you tell me where there are any boats 
to let ? " 

" Yes ; plenty of them ; right here," replied 

" That 's curious," said the stranger. '' I 
heard there were some down this way; but that 




young fellow I just met said there was n't one 
to be had for love or money, and that all these 
were private or engaged." 

Toby was prompted to say something severe 
regarding Lick's veracity; but contented him- 
self with replying, " It seems he was mistaken. 
Would you like a boat ? " 

" I should like two, and perhaps three, this 
evening," the stranger answered. " A party of 
us wish to take a row by moonlight. Which 
can we have ? " 

" Either or both of these two," said Toby, 
indicating as he spoke the " Milly " and the 
Whitehall boat. 

The doctor's boat was not in the water, and 
Toby thought Mr. Allerton might wish to use 
the " Swallow " himself. 

" Perhaps we can make these do. What 's 
the price ? " 

Toby had thought a good deal on that sub- 
ject and discussed it with Mr. Allerton. He 
answered stoutly : 

" Twenty-five cents an hour for each boat." 
" Any less for the second hour ? " 
" Each subsequent hour, twenty cents." 
" And if you furnish an oarsman ? " 
" Twenty-five cents more for every hour." 
" All right," said the man, looking at his 
watch. " We '11 be around here after tea — say 
at a quarter past seven, or a little later." 

Chapter XXXV. 


The stranger departed ; and Toby ran home 
with such glee as a small boy feels when he has 
caught his first fish. 

After a hasty supper he returned to the 
wharf to put everything in readiness for the 
party that had engaged the boats. 

While he was at work wiping and sponging, 
Yellow Jacket came along. He passed close 
behind the little wharf and turned up the street 
without uttering a word. 

Toby thought at first, " Let him sulk if he 
likes to!" But presently relenting, he called 
after him : 

" Yellow Jacket ! " 

'I'hen it seemed that Yellow Jacket had grown 
suddenly deaf 

"Yellow Jacket!" Toby repeated. "Oh, 
come, now, — what 's the use?" 

The wasp-catcher turned and glared. 

" I 've let two boats for this evening," said 
Toby, " and you may be wanted to pull a pair 
of oars." 

" I ha\e n't had my supper yet," Yellow 
Jacket growled, looking askance. 

" It won't take you long to get that ; I 've 
had mine ! " said Toby. " See here. Yellow 
Jacket, you and I are not going to be so fool- 
ish as to quarrel." 

" I should think we had (juarreled a'ready," 
said Yellow Jacket, stung worse by Toby's re- 
cent words than he had ever been by all the 
hornets he had caught. 

" Then let 's make up," replied Toby. 

"Is 'pose you '11 say make up, now there 's 
something you want to get out of me," mut- 
tered Yellow Jacket. 

Toby had meant to be generous, and he could 
not bear to have his motives misunderstood. 

" The idea of my wanting to get anything out 
o( you/" he exclaimed. "I 've got this thing 
in ray own hands, and I don't ask odds of any- 
body. I only thought I 'd give you a chance 
to earn a quarter or a half, which I should 
think you 'd be glad to do w-ith your mother 
and sisters working as hard as they have to 
every day of their lives while you are loafing. 
Now, will you come or not ? I sha'n't ask you 
three times." 

Yellow Jacket, even while he grumbled, had 
almost made up his mind to accept Toby's 
proffer of peace, and pull the oars for him. But 
this too frank allusion to his notorious domestic 
circumstances maddened him, as Toby, had he 
been wise, might have foreseen. He hurled 
back a furious retort, and walked on. 

" Well ! I seem to be getting into it deeper 
and deeper," thought Toby, almost as vexed 
with himself as he was angry with Yellow 
Jacket. " What has got into the fellow ? I 
was so ready to make friends with him." 

He sat down on the wharf with his feet in 
a boat, and waited for his patrons. The even- 
ing was inexjjressibly lovely, with its cool shad- 
ows and tran(|uil water. The lake was like 
dimpled silk, softly undulating with wavelets 
that nowhere broke into ripi)les, and that came 


from no one knew where, for the winds were 
still. Then it reflected the hues of wondrous 
fiery vapors which stained the track of the sunset, 
and these also came from some unknown source, 
for not a cloud marred the purity of the sky. 

The appointed time had passed and Toby be- 
gan to fear the party would not come. He sat 
holding the boat with his heels, when Mildred 
appeared — not merely in order to have herhttle 
sisterly fling at him, it is to be hoped, but she 
had it nevertheless. 

" Well, Toby, how much money have you 
made, with the crowds of people you were ex- 
pecting ? " 

" Enough to pay a dollar a word for all the 
nice, consoling things you say to me, when you 
see me anxious or disappointed," replied Toby. 

" I suppose I deserve that," said Milly, more 
pleasantly. " How beautiful the water is ! I 
wish I could afibrd to hire one of your boats, 
with a charming oarsman." 

" Perhaps you can get Yellow Jacket and his 
' Bluebird,' " said Toby. " Or, if you can't do 
any better, I '11 give you a row myself, if my 
party does n't come. But there they are," he 
exclaimed, starting to his feet. 

The stranger who had engaged the boats re- 
turned, accompanied by an old gentleman and 
five ladies. They did not like the look of the 
Whitehall boat, which, indeed, leaked a little 
and needed a coat of paint ; and they insisted 
on taking the " Milly " and the " Swallow." 

" All right," said Toby, after some hesitation. 
Then turning to his sister : " If Mr. Allerton 
comes for his boat, tell him how it is, and ask 
him to take the Whitehall in its place." 

Toby was to row one of the boats, and guide 
the party to the most interesting points about 
the lake. 

" Do you think I 've nothing but your errands 
to do, and to wait for Mr. Allerton ? " said 
Mildred to herself, as Toby rowed away. 

Yet she was willing enough to remain ; and 
after watching the two boats move oft", breaking 
the beautiful surface into still more beautiful 
whirls and ripples under the brightening moon, 
she walked to and fro on the shore, glad at 
heart of what she knew made Toby hapjjv. 

Then came another gentleman with two 
ladies ; he also wanted a boat. 


" Who is the boss ? " he asked. 

"The 'boss' is my brother," Milly replied, 
" and he is on the lake, with a party, in the 
boats yonder." 

" Those are friends of ours," said one of the 
ladies. "Why can't we have this boat?" 

" That was to be kept for another person," 
replied Mildred. " But it is getting late ; I don't 
believe he will come. I '11 take the, and 
let you have it." 

She held the painter, and helped the party 
aboard ; then laughed well at herself, after they 
had pushed off. 

" It 's a queer business for me, but I rather 
like it. Perhaps Toby will engage me in place 
of Yellow Jacket. I can take a party out, and 
row as well as anybody. Would n't it be 
fun ! " 

She suppressed a cry of dismay. .^ man was 
coming along the shore. She saw him put his 
hand up under his hat. There was a fresh pink 
in his buttonhole. 

" Oh, Mr. Allerton ! " she said, " you are 
coming for your boat, and I have done a 
dreadful thing ! " 

And she told him the story. 

" I noticed that the boats were gone," he 
said; "and I hoped that was just what had 

" But you would have used one, if it had been 
saved for you ? " 

"Very likely — provided I could have in- 
duced you to take a row with me." 

" That shows me how much I have lost, and 
how justly I am punished," said Mildred, with 
a pretty air of disappointment. 

" Is that an example of your irony ? " the 
schoolmaster replied. " Toby tells me you can 
be very sarcastic." 

" Ca7i be ? It 's all I can do not to be ! " 
Mildred exclaimed. " It 's my worst fiiiling, 
with him. Not with you, Mr. Allerton. I was 
just wishing for a row on the lake." 

" Perhaps a walk on the shore will be almost 
as pleasant. What do you say to it ? " Mr. 
Allerton asked diffidently — for he was one of 
the shyest of men. 

" I say yes to it, of course," Milly replied 
with charming frankness, taking the arm he 
oflered her somewhat awkwardlv. 



[J I' 

It was a memorable evening for her, as it was 
for Toby. Mr. .\llerton did not have in a high 
degree the gift of graceful trifling. But he 
talked to her of her brother, of the books she 
liked, or of those he wished her to like, and oc- 
casionally quoted a stanza of poetry to her in a 
voice which added to its music as the moon- 
light enhanced the beauty of the lake. 

Chapter XXXVI. 


Toby received a dollar and a half for his 
boats and his own services that evening ; and it 
was money sweetly earned. He might have 
claimed more, if he had insisted upon it, for he 
was out with the party more than two hours. 

" But they were inclined to be liberal with 
me," he said afterward ; " and I thought I 
would be liberal with them. And I 'd like them 
to want to come again." 

He was greatly encouraged by this begin- 
ning. Early the next morning he set to work 
puttying and painting the doctor's boat, and 
making it ready to join his little fleet. He also 
put up his sign, " Boats to Let." He nailed 
it to a high stake, which would also serve for 
fastening the boats, at a comer of the wharf 

Then there was the other sign, — " Boats for 
Three Springs," — which was to be placed 
facing the railroad station, on Mrs. Patterson's 
fence. Although he had her permission to put 
it there he feared it would bring him into more 
trouble with Yellow Jacket. He was thus be- 
ginning to perceive the inconvenience of having 

He was desirous of having this sign up by 
the time of the arrival of the first train which 
usually brought passengers for the Springs. At 
ten o'clock he walked into Mrs. Patterson's 
yard, with the board under his arm, and ap- 
proached the back door, where he found her 
washing some clothes at a tub. 

" I have brought that sign I spoke to you 
about," he said, with a show of easy indiffer- 
ence which he did not feel, for he expected at 
any moment to see Yellow Jacket come brist- 
ling out at him. 

She had forgotten all about the matter, and 
he had to explain it to her again. 

" Oh, sartin ! " she said. " What objection 
can there be ? " 

" I did n't know but Josh would object," 
Toby replied. " He has got out with me lately, 
for some reason ; though he knows that I wanted 
to give him a share of the business, if I get 

" So he tol' me," replied the washerwoman. 
" Josiah is sometimes rather unreason'ble. But 
I guess he '11 come round. Anyway, you can 
put up the sign. He ain't to hum." 

Toby had the board fastened by screws to an 
upright strip, which he now proceeded to nail 
to the fence. The sound of his hammer at- 
tracted the attention of a small crowd waiting 
around the station for the arrival of the train. 
Boys rushed to the spot ; and Toby did not 
have to look higher than the legs of the men 
to know that they were staring at him and his 
sign. There was surprise and curiosity even in 
the pose of their feet. 

Two or three omnibuses were there ; the 
one that conveyed passengers to the Springs 
was backed up to the platform within a rod or 
two of where he was at work. Among the 
questions and comments that reached his ears, 
he heard one of the drivers say : 

" See that, Burleigh ? There 's opposition ! 
You may as well keep your team in the bam, 
after this." 

Burleigh, the bluff old driver of the Springs 
omnibus, made answer: 

" I guess our bus will run all the same. But 
somebody I won't mention ain't go'n' to be 
over and above pleased." 

Toby worked on courageously, though con- 
scious of a very red face ; and afterward showed 
his pluck by jumping down from the fence, on 
the side toward the station, to look at his sign 
from the point of view of the crowd. 

The most of the comments he overheard 
were friendly enough. 

" It 's a mighty good idee ! " 

" I wonder nobody ever thought on 't before." 

" Can't be anything pleasanter 'n a trip acrost 
the lake in fine weather. Omnibus is nowhere ! " 

" Wonder what the company '11 think of it ? 
Going to cut rates, Toby ? " 

" 'T ain't the railroad company that runs the 
bus; it 's 'I'azwell. Maybe lie 's interested in 



the boats. How is it, Toby? You still at work 
for him ? " 

" There 's nobody interested in the boats but 
myself," Toby replied. " And all I want is just 
to cam a living, without cutting rates or inter- 
fering with anybody." 

He was glad when the approach of the train 
attracted the attention of the bystanders ; for 
he was determined not to retreat while all eyes 
were upon him, nor until he had made an effort 
to secure passengers. 

" See here, Burke," he said to a sturdy boy 
of about twelve years, who stood earnestly 
watching him ; " you can pull a pair of oars, if 
I happen to want you ? " 

" I should think so ! " said Burke, with a 
pleased grin. 

He was the son of a carpenter, who, Toby 
knew, would be glad to have the boy get some 

" Very well ; be on hand." 

" Bus to Three Springs ! Here 's the bus to 
Three Springs ! " called out Burleigh, standing 
at the open door of his vehicle, as the passen- 
gers were leaving the train. 

It required no little resolution for a modest 
boy like Toby to take his stand before the 
platform, and likewise make a bid for patronage. 
He could not make up his mind to do so until 
the last moment, when, seeing that his sign 
did not appear to be noticed, he spoke up in a 
clear voice, but with a fast beating heart: 

" Boats to Three Springs, gentlemen ! Pleas- 
ant row across the lake ! Have a boat, sir ? " — 
to one who hesitated. 

" Hold on, Terry ! " said the traveler, " let 's 
leam about these boats ! Where are they ? " 

"Close by," replied Toby; "just at the foot 
of the street here." 

" What 's the fare ? " 

" Twenty-five cents." 

" Same as in the omnibus ? " 

Toby knew very well that it was the same, 
except that the omnibus gave return tickets for 
forty cents. 

"I have nothing to do with the omnibus," he 
answered discreetly. 

" I say, Terry ! " said the traveler, "let 's try 
the lake. It may take us longer, but that makes 
no difference because we 're in no hurry." 



•• It won't take you much longer," said Toby, 
" for it is a straight course by boat." 

The result was that, out of nine ]iassengers 
for the Springs, two gentlemen and three ladies 
went with Toby. He was almost frightened at 
his success; and it really gave him an uncom- 
fortable feeling, to see only lour out of the nine 
left for Burleigh and his bus. 

Was he taking an unfair advantage, by thus 
making a strike for a share of the public patron- 
age ? He could not see that he was. The 
railroad company, or whoever it was that ran 
the omnibus to the Springs, had no monopoly 
of that summer resort, which owed its existence 
and sudden popularity to its lately discovered 
mineral waters ; and if anybody had a right to 
take tourists there by land, Toby had an equal 
right to take them there by water. 

He had thought of all this before, and did 
not waste any time in reflecting again upon it. 

" Come, Burke ! " said he. " Show these peo- 
ple the way." And he ran on before to get 
his boats in readiness. 

The Swallow was large enough to take the 
whole party, with one oarsman. But he meant 
to " do the thing in handsome shape," as he 
said afterward ; and he also had an " eye out 
for return fares." 

He started one couple off with Burke, in the 
" Milly," and followed with his three other pas- 
sengers in the " Swallow." Never in his life be- 
fore did he pull a pair of oars with such glee. 
It was only after he had passed the other boat, 
and saw that he was leaving it behind, for all 
Burke could do, that he relaxed his efforts and 
led the way with an easier stroke. 

" Is n't this delightful ? " 

" What a lovely sheet of water ! " 

" \\'hy does anybody take an omnibus when 
there 's such a boat-ride as this to be had ! " 

" No dust on this road — not much ! " 

Such were some of the comments he was 
pleased to overhear. 

He was landing his passengers in front of the 
Three Springs Hotel when he heard the rum- 
ble of the omnibus driving into the grounds. 

" You see," he .said, " we are here as soon as 
they qre." 

'• How about returning ? " said the leader of 
the party, producing money to pay the fares. 

The ()uestion was addressed to his friends, 
who voted unanimou.sly that it would be 
better to go back by water. 

" At what time ? " Toby asked. 

"In time for the four-o'clock u]) train; we 
have come over here only for dinner." 

" My boats will be here," said Toby. " If 
you pay now, the fare both ways will be only 
forty cents, instead of half a dollar." 

" Suppose I pay you, and your boats are not 
here ? " said the traveler good-naturedly. 

" Suppose you pay the omnibus, and the 
omnibus is n't here ? " replied Toby .shrewdly. 
" Business is business." 

Chapter XXXVII, 


The man laughed, and handing him two 
dollars asked for return tickets. 

Toby was prepared for the emergency. 

Not long before, a boy friend of his had set 
up an amateur printing-press ; and to encourage 
the enterprise Toby had ordered of him two 
dozen visiting-cards. 

" — Though I don't expect ever to ha\e any 
use for them," he had said. But now a use for 
them had come. 

He had one in his pocket, jirinted in neat 

Tobias TmffonL 

He wrote on this with the stub of a pencil, 
" Good for five fares," and hanileil it over 
gravely, in return for the money. 

" Now, Burke, wait here," he said, " while I 
see if there are any passengers to go back for 
the noon train." 

The clerk of the hotel informed him that two 
or three guests were going away that forenoon ; 
and pointed them out, sitting under a pavilion 
at one of the springs. Toby walked up with 


a frank but modest air, and proposed the trip 
by his boats. 

'• We don't know anything about you and 
your boats," was the blunt rejjly. 

" Here are some people who can tell you 
about them, and perhaps a little about me, 
since I brought them over," said Toby, with a 
proud air, but with a blushing face, " if you will 
take the trouble to ask them." 

" There 's no use in that," said the man who 
had spoken before ; " for we have tickets to go 
back by the bus." 

Toby was silent for a moment. A contin- 
gency had arisen which might arise again and 
embarrass his business. His decision was 
quickly made. 

•' All right," he said ; '■ I '11 accept them." 
For he reasoned : " No doubt I shall have pas- 
sengers who will want to go back by the bus. 
So I can sell bus-tickets, if I have any." 

The party he had brought over sauntered into 
the pavilion. Toby quietly withdrew, but he 
had not gone far when he heard the question : 

" How about this youngster's boats ? " 

And the reply : 

" The boats are nothing extra, though they 're 
well enough ; but the trip by the lake is fine." 

He chuckled a little, but did not turn back. 
Presently the man on the bench called out to 
him : " See here. Bub ! " 

It galled him to be addressed in that dis- 
respectful manner. But he had made up his 
mind not to let false pride stand in the way of 
any honorable occupation. So, instead of walk- 
ing on, as he was at first inclined to do, he 
turned with a smile and said : 

"That is n't my name; but never mind." 

" When do we start ? " the man inquired. 

" In half an hour," said Toby, " if you wish 
to get the noon train. How many of you ? " 

" Three." 

" .\ny baggage ? " 

" Only gripsacks." 

" I '11 have a boat for you," said Toby. 

He at first thought of leaving Burke to take 
these passengers across in the " Milly," while he 
hastened back to his boat-painting. But he con- 
cluded to remain, in order to see that nothing 
went wrong ; and he was glad that he did, for 
when they came to take the boat they were 


accompanied by two others, who had come over 
that morning in the bus. 

" We have seen enough of the Springs," they 
said, " and now we should like to see a little 
more of the lake." 

Nothing was said about the fare, until he 
landed them at his wharf; w-hen they, too, 
presented bus tickets. 

" We understand you take these." they said. 

Toby gave a shrug. " I suppose that I ought 
since I have agreed to take them from these 
other gentlemen," he replied, after a moment's 

But he was beginning to think, as he said 
later, that he had " hooked a fish it might be 
some trouble to haul in." 

He sent Burke to follow the tourists and 
carry their satchels to the station. 

" Then go and get your dinner," he said, 
" and come back and help me again this after- 
noon. And ask your father what he thinks I 
ought to pay you, if I hire you by the week 
— that is, if you like it." 

" Oh, I hke it," said Burke, with a pleased 
look, as he started off with the bags. 

When Burke returned at one o'clock, he said 
his father thought two dollars and a half a week 
would be fair wages for such a stout boy. 

" I think so, too," replied Toby. " And now 
let me tell you something. I like the way you 
take hold, and I believe you are going to suit 
me better than the person I first had in mind. 
I shall want you to stick right to business ; and 
very likely you will have the handling of some 
money. It won't be enough that you can pull 
a good stroke ; you must be polite, and of course 
you '11 be honest." 

" I was brought up to be that," said Burke. 

" I know you were," said Toby. " And it 
will help to keep you so to have something to 
do. Boys of your stamp don't go wrong unless 
they are idle. Now this is what I am coming to. 
You shall have your two dollars and a half a 
week, to begin ; and if at the end of a week 
or two, I find I can afford it, and you earn it, you 
shall have half a dollar more. How's that ? " 

'•That 's tip-top I " said the carpenter's son. 

" One thing that you will have to do will be 
what you saw me do this morning, and I want 
you to make up your mind to do it well," Toby 



proceeded. " You will be at the station when 
the train arrives, take your stand facing the pas- 
sengers as they come out on the platform, and 
— suppose you rehearse your part a little." 

'• How do you mean ? " Burke asked. 

'• Suppose this wharf is the platform, and I 
am a passenger. I have ladies with me, and a 
gripsack in my hand. What do you do ? " 

" Oh, I d'n' know," said the pupil sheepishly. 

" What did I say ? Do you remember? " 

" ' Boats for Three Springs, gentlemen ! Pleas- 
ant trip across the lake.' Something like that." 

" Exactly ! You 've learned your part al- 
ready, and all you 've got to do is to play it 
with confidence. With a good deal more con- 
fidence than I did ! " laughed Toby ; " for I 
was scared half to death. My sign up there 
may do some good ; but I tell you, a living and 

talking sign w ill do vastly more. You are to be 
that, Burke. Now here I come with the ladies 
and my gripsack ; and there you are, ready and 
chipper; and what do you say?" 

It was hard for the boy to keep a sober coun- 
tenance; but he spoke up in tones that showed 
what he might do when the proper time came. 

" Boats to Three Springs, gentlemen I Have 
a boat, sir ? Pleasant trip by the lake ! " 

" That 's good," Toby exclaimed. " And 
you must offer to take my gripsack." 

" But if there are trunks ? or big valises ? " 

"I 've thought of that. We '11 have my 
wheelbarrow at our gate, and you can run back 
for it if you need it. But we won't undertake 
to handle any big trunks." 

Fortunately very few such made the trip to 
Three Springs. 

[To de continued.) 

-^ 'ii^ r / ' 



«x^>c«x *»- 

<%. *^ -^ ^ ^-y^^ 

By Ellen Douglas Deland. 

Hezekl\h Settle was a bachelor of Maine, Whenever he desu-ed to cook a mutton chop 

But one morning he departed by a very early He 'd hang it by a lengthy string right over 

train. from the top, 

" For fuel is so costly," said the frugal Hezekiah, From the top of the volcano he would hang it 
" I am forced to find a dwelling where I need by a string. 

not pay for fire." 

And there, until 't was nicely cooked, he 'd let 
his dinner swing. 

To get his boiling water he would lower down 

a ketde. 
Right down into the crater of Mount Popo- 

catapetl : 
From the ashes of the mountain he would light 

his meerschaum pipe. 
And he felt as truly happy as a jolly little snipe — 

He took a bee-line southward till 

to Mexico he came, 
He found there a volcano with a - 

most eccentric name, 
And he built him there a cottage, 

did this Hezekiah Bettle, 
He built it near the summit of 

Mount Popocatapetl. 


But one evening, as it lia]ipened, there came by So he tapped iiim on the shoulder, this poor 

a grizzly bear. He/ekiah Bettle, 

And he was much astonished to see Hezekiaii Who straightway did fall over into Popocatapeti. 
there ; 


Bv Alice Maude Ewell. 

They 'd all sat dowTi but Bess and me, 

I surely thought I 'd win. 
To lose on such an easy word, 

I I was a shame and sin ! 

We spelled the longest in the book, 
The hardest ones — right through, 
■ Xylography," and "pachyderm," 
And " gneiss," and " phthisic," too. 

I spelled '• immalleability," 

" Pneumonia," — it waa/it/i/ 
• Phlebotomy," and '• zoophyte," 

Each long and curious one. 
Then teacher gave a right queer smile 

When Bess spelled " aciuarelle," 
And backward, C|uick, she turned the leaves 

-And then she gave out '• spell." 

I 'm sure I never stopped to think 

.\bout that " double 1." 
It seemed like such an easy woril ; 

But one can never tell. 
■ S-p-e-1," I spelled it — 

And how they alldid laugh ! 
And teacher said, " I think, my dear, 

Too easy 't was, by half." 

Now, Bessie was not proud nor mean. 

She said, '• No wonder, Jane ; 
For we were thinking of i/ii; words. 

You 'd spell it right, again." 
I 'm glad that it was Bess who won. 

And not those others. Well! 
If I did one little word, 

I showed that I could spell. 


By Tudor Jenks. 

One Saturday afternoon we asked Uncle Ben 
to tell us a story. It was a very favorable op- 
portunity, for he had sprained his ankle and sat 
with one foot propped up by a small camp-stool. 

" Don't you think it unfair to ask an mvalid 
to amuse you ? " he asked. 

" It does n't hurt your ankle to talk," objected 
his youngest niece. 

" Well, perhaps it won't," he admitted. " At 
all events, I will try, and if it hurts me I can 

We agreed to this. 

• But there is one condition," said Uncle Ben. 
'• I do not hke to be bound down too closely to 
facts. Some people believe in telling stories to 
teach ; others believe in telling stories to amuse. 
Now I prefer to mix the two kinds. So you 
need n't believe my story unless you choose, and 
so you must not ask me whether it is true or not. 
Do you all agree ? " 

" We agree," we answered. 

" Now don't forget," said Uncle Ben. " I 
shall tell it as if it was a true story ; and if you 
should meet any of the persons I tell about, you 
can find out from them, if you.choose, just what 
I have added to any facts there may be. And 
if you never meet any of them, why, then you 
need n't be surprised, for maybe they never 

We nodded our heads and waited for the 
story. And this is what he told us. 

When I was a young man, about thirty years 
of age, I came to the city to make my fortune. 
I had no profession and was ready to do any- 
thing honorable that promised me fair wages. 
To save my money, I boarded with another 
young fellow who was also looking for work. 
He was hardly more than a boy, about fifteen, 
I think, but he may have been younger. 

His name was Marmaduke Ferron, and I 
think he must have been French, he was ahvavs 

so gay and confident. Nothing made him blue. 
Even when we had spent all but enough to pay 
one week's board he would not be discouraged. 
He went every day to answer advertisements or 
to ask for work. 

I was older, came of Scotch stock, and was 
more easily disheartened. 

One day, after a long tramp about the city 
without finding anything except an agency to 
sell very poor chromos, I came in, and settled 
down by our little cylinder stove, entirely hope- 
less. I had about made up my mind to go back 
to my country home, when Marmaduke came 
in. He seemed very jolly, and for the first 
moment I thought he have found work. 
Then I remembered that he always did come 
back in a happy frame of mind, and I became 
gloomy again. 

This time, however, Marmaduke had found 
something — though I was incHned to sneer 
when he told me what it was. 

" Well, our luck has turned at last ! " said he, 
brightly. " I knew it would." 

" Have you found a place ? " I inquired witli 
but little interest. 

" Yes," he answered. " And what is better, 
I have found a place for you, too." 

" What is it ? " I asked, with some little hope. 

" I went to answer an advertisement calling 
for agents willing to travel abroad," said Mar- 
maduke, " and I found a firm of dealers in 
notions who wanted two young men to go to 
Corea and sell a miscellaneous cargo." 

" Corea ? Where 's Corea ? " I asked, for I 
had only a vague notion of the country. 

" Don't know, I 'm sure," said Marmaduke, 
as if impatient of the interruption, "but tlie old 
man I saw was quite confidential with me. He 
told me that his firm had bought a large num- 
ber of roller-skates and did n't ([uite know 
what to do with them." 

" Why don't they sell them ? " 




" They can't. These are the old-fashioned 
kind. They fasten with straps," Marmaduke 
explained, " and all the new roller-skates fasten 
with clamps. So there is no market for them in 
this country." 

" And why do they think they will sell in 
Corea ? " I asked, but with little interest, for the 
whole scheme seemed to me very absurd. " How 
did the firm come to buy them ? " 

" There 's a queer story about that," said 
Marmaduke earnestly. " They told me about 
it in confidence ; but I can tell you, because we 
are going into this enterprise together." 

" You 're sure of that ? " I asked, smiling in 
spite of myself. 

" It 's a splendid chance ! " said Marmaduke. 
" The way they came to buy them was this : the 
senior partner of the firm is getting old and is a 
httle shaky in his intellect, but he loves to buy 
things; and as his partners are his sons, they 
don't like to interfere with his pleasure. Usu- 
ally he buys only trifles, but somehow he had an 
idea that these skates were a great investment 
and he has bought hundreds of them. He 
e.\pects to ' realize,' as they say, a large profit." 

" How ridiculous ! " I broke in. 

" I don't think so," said Marmaduke. " I 
think the old man has a very level head. Do 
you remember Lord Timothy Dexter and the 
warming-pans ? " 

" No, I don't," I answered, and he was too 
impatient to tell me about it. He was full of 
the Corean enterprise. 

" Corea," he said, " is, they tell me, a new 
countr)-. That is, it has n't long been open to 
commerce. I believe the natives will jump at 
the skates ! " 

As I was tired and sleepy I refused to hear 
anything more about so foolish a venture, and 
went to bed. Marmaduke tried in vain to talk 
to me as I was undressing. I shut my bed- 
room door and put out the light. 

Next morning, however, there was a very 
strong argument in favor of the plan. That was 
my lack of cash. I must do something, and 
as this firm offered to pay all our expenses and 
give us a commission besides, both on the present 
lot of skates and on all for which we might make 
a market, I could n't see that we risked any- 
thing. Then, too, I was fond of the boy, was 

glad to be with him, and had n't the heart to dis- 
appoint him by refusing. In short, I consented, 
though I was sure we were going on a fool's 

So we set sail. Marmaduke was full of hope, 
and I, though expecting nothing, was glad of 
the sea- voyage and of the rest. The first part of 
our journey was by steamer, and the latter part 
was by a sailing vessel. The voyage was with- 
out anything to compare in interest with our 
adventures on land, so I will pass on to the 
time when we were put ashore near a native vil- 
lage which looked about as dreary and melan- 
choly as any place could look. There was n't 
a thing in sight except the low mud houses 
thatched with a sort of rushes. 

We found out afterwards that we had made a 
serious mistake. The place to which our cargo 
was consigned was something like a city — as 
nearly as such things exist in Corea. But, by a 
mistake in the name, we were landed upon an 
island where no white man had preceded us. 

Consequently, the natives had fled in terror 
when the ship landed us and unloaded our boxes 
of skates and then sailed away as rapidly as 
possible. The captain, to judge by his hasty 
departure, knew the character of the natives and 
was glad to put a few leagues between his ship 
and these savages. For savages they were, as 
we soon found out. No sooner was the ship 
out of sight than the bushes round about the 
beach began to blossom with heads. Then the 
natives came out one by one, and before we 
fairly understood our position we were seized, 
bound hand and foot, hoisted upon the shoul- 
ders of some outlandish warriors, and borne 
away in triumph, followed by a long file of 
natives, carrying each a box of roller-skates. 

We were entirely unarmed, and could ha\e 
made no resistance even if there had been time. 

" This is a pleasant beginning ! " I said, with 
some bitterness. 

" There 's nothing ver)- unpleasant so far," 
said Marmaduke cheerfully. " You know I 
was afraid we might have trouble with the cus- 
tom-house, or that the freight charges might eat 
up our profits." 

" There does n't seem to be any trouble 
about getting into the country, I must admit," 
I answered frankly. " But I am afraid there 


may be some question about who owns the 
goods when we get there." 

" I don't believe in going to seek trouble," 
said Marmaduke. " They evidently want our 
company, and seem to have no objection to 
carrying our baggage." 

Meanwhile the Coreans made no remarks, but 
kept up a steady jog-trot which soon brought 
them to the center of the village, where they 
halted before a hut larger than any we had seen. 

Here they untied us, and made signs that we 
should enter the hut. 

" Probably the custom-house ! " I said dr}'ly. 

"The principal hotel, I think," said Marma- 
duke, .stretching his legs and arms. 

The building contained only one room, and 
at the further end of this sat the chief — at 
least, we judged so because he was the crossest- 
looking man in the room ; and we subsequently 
discovered that we were right. 

Then began our trial. Though, of course, we 
could not understand a word that was said, it 
was very easy to follow the general line of the 

First, the man who commanded the proces- 
sion which brought us in told his stor)'. He 
described the ship, our landing, the ship's hasty 
departure, the capture of ourselves, and, con- 
cluding, pointed to the boxes. 

Then the chief commanded one of the boxes 
to be opened. It was forced open with a small 
hatchet-hke weapon, and one of the skates was 
handed to the chief He was completely puz- 
zled. He blew on it, rubbed it over his head, 
weighed it, tried to spin it, and then turned to 
us saying something like : 

" Walla ella ing kang cho ?" 

Thereupon Marmaduke replied sweetly : 

" Yes, most noble panjandrum. You have 
hit it exactly. It 's a simple roller-skate. I see 
you don't understand it at all, and I 'm not 
surprised. You don't seem over-intelligent." 

The chief shook his head impatiently and 
growled. Then he picked up an ivory baton 
lying by his side, and struck a sweet-toned 

" I hope that 's dinner," said Marmaduke, 
and I agreed with him, jiroviding we were to 
be guests only, and not the choicest dainties on 
the bill of fare. 


But we were wrong. As the gong tones were 
dying away, a curious figure entered the hut 
and made its way toward the dais where the 
chief was sitting. It was that of an old man 
with a scanty snow-white beard. He carried 
a carved rattle in his hand and shook it as he 

" Well, Old Ratde-box," said Marmaduke, " I 
hope you will help us out of this fix. Maybe 
he 's an interpreter." 

" More likely to be the head cook," was my 

The newcomer conferred for a few moments 
with the chief and then bent all his energies 
to the mystery of the roller-skate. Needless to 
say, it was too much for him. But he seemed 
clever enough to pretend he knew all about it. 
So, taking the skate very gingerly in his left 
hand, he spun the little wheels with his right. 
Then he dropped it as if it was a very hot 
potato, and turning to the chief began to chat- 
ter away in a tone which showed he was bringing 
some frightful accusation against our innocent 

The chief, as the old man spoke, drew him- 
self away from the skate, which had fallen near 
his foot, and regarded the harmless wheels and 
straps with an expression of dread and distrust. 

" I see the old fellow's game," said Marma- 
duke. " He does n't know at all what it is, any 
more than his superb highness the ignoramus 
on the bench. And so he has told them it 's 
witchcraft, or bugaboo, or taboo, or something 
of the kind. They '11 be for slaying us outright 
in a moment, you '11 see." 

And indeed in a minute the chief gave a hasty 
order, and the soldiers advanced upon us. 

" Good-by, Marmaduke, my lad," said I, in 
a sorrowful tone. " Life is short at best, dear 
friend, and — " 

" Don't be a whiner yet," said Marmaduke. 
" You have n't heard the counsel for the defense 
yet. I '11 move the whole court-room to tears 
in a moment." 

"You are a brave boy," said I, smiling sadly 
at him. " Good-by 1 I should not have led 
you into this trouble." 

'• You just keep quiet, and you '11 see me lead 
you out of it," said Marmaduke. Then, while 
the chief was giving some too plain directions to 



the guards, ending up by drawing his hand elo- 
quently across his throat, Marmaduke arose to 
his feet. 

" Fellow-citizens 1 " he said. All the natives 
turned toward him, for his voice was as com- 
manding as that of a football captain. " You 
are making idiots of yourself. As for old Ratde- 
box there, he does n't know beans. If there 
were any sense in his noddle, he would have 
guessed what the roller-skate was for in a jifify. 
Just see here." Then Marmaduke took a pencil 
from his pocket, and seizing a piece of the pine 
box began to draw a picture. 

Now Marmaduke was a natural artist, and 
consequently spoke a universal language. The 
natives bent over to see what he was doing, and 
even the chief elbowed his way to the front 
after pushing over several of the other selfish 

Marmaduke made a picture of himself on roller- 
skates, gliding gracefully over the ground, and 
drew a native running at full speed beside him. 
In vain did " Old Ratde-box " stand outside 
shaking his head and muttering his disapproval. 
Marmaduke's picture had excited the natives' 
curiosity, and when he leaned over and took a 
pair of skates from the box, seated himself, and 
proceeded to put them on, only one hand was 
raised to prevent him. Ratde-box tried to take 
the skates from his hand and was soundly cuffed 

by the deeply interested chief Then we knew 
that the tide had turned. 

In a moment Marmaduke strapped on the 
skates, and arose to his feet. Luckily, the floor 
was of hard beaten earth and made an excellent 
rink. As he glided gently along the floor the 
chief caught him by the arm, pointed to the 
door, smiled very significantly, and shook his 

" That 's all right, old man," said Marma- 
duke cordially. '• I 'm not going away. .\t least 
not till I 've sold out my skates. Put a guard at 
the door ! " and he pointed to a soldier and then 
at the doorway. The chief was a quick-witted 
old warrior and he saw the point at once. The 
guard was posted. Then Marmaduke, who 
was an excellent skater, motioned the crowd 
back, and cut pigeon-wings to the admiration 
of his spectators. 

They laughed and shouted and clapped their 
hands with delight. At last Marmaduke said 
to me, "Don't you think that 's enough for the 
present ? " 

" Yes," I replied, smiling in spite of myself 
" But I don't see what good it is going to do." 

" Well, you shall see," said Marmaduke. So 
then he glided gracefully on the " outside edge " 
over to the chief and made signs that he was 

The chief, now in the best of humor, nodded. 


laughed, and gave some orders to an attendant. 
In a few minutes some hot rice and other food 
(chickens, I think) was brought, and we sat 
down to our first meal in Corea. But pre- 
viously Marmaduke made signs to the chief to 
send the crowd away, by pointing to the door 
and pushing at the crowd. 

The chief smiled again, cleared the room, 
and contented himself with posting two strong 
spearmen at the door. 

As we ate our meal Marmaduke conversed 
with the chief, and by patient endeavors at last 
made him understand that he, the chief, could 
also learn this wonderful art. Then the joy of 
the old barbarian was unbounded, and he wished 
to begin at once. But Marmaduke pointed to 
the dinner, looked imploring at the chief, and 
thus obtained a postponement until the meal 
was done. 

But no sooner was the table — or mat — 
cleared, than the chief held out his feet for the 

" He will break his royal neck, sure ! " I said 
nervously, thinking what our fate would be in 
case of such a happening. 


" We must support him." said Marmaduke. 
" Put on your skates, and remember that if 
' Jack falls down and breaks his crown,' — we 're 

We put on our skates ; we strapped the royal 
feet fimily to tlie treacherous rollers, and helped 
him up. 

.\ fish out of water was nothing to the an- 
tics of that unfortunate savage. One guard at 
the door tried in vain to restrain his mirth. 
When the king went scooting over the floor, as 
we supported his limp frame with its two awk- 
ward legs projecting aimlessly forward, the guard 
burst into a loud guffaw. The chief, or king, 
heard that unhappy man's laugh, and, struggling 
wildly to his feet, roared an order to the other 
guards. The unfortunate soldier was at once 
hurried away to prison, or .something worse. 
Thereafter there was no outward levity. 

We toiled with His Royal Highness for several 
hours. He was plucky, and only gave up when 
completely tired out. Then we took a recess 
until the following morning. 

For the next day or two we were in high favor 
at court and fared sumptuously ; and when the 

" Oh. I think not," said Marmaduke cheer- king found that he could really skate alone he 

fully, '• but we have to take some risks in every was perfectly happy. Of course he had a fall 

business. This is a sort of speculation." or two, but the craze for roller-skating was upon 

"But his feet will go out from under him at him, and Marmaduke's first exhibition had 

the first step," I insisted. 

shown him that there was still much to learn. 




Consequently he was anxious to keej) our favor 
and did not mind a bump or two. 

.•\t first the chief was unwilHng to allow any 
one else to learn; but Marmaduke, who had even 
learned a few words of the language, persuaded 
the old man that it would be great fun to see 
Rattle-box learn to skate ; and at last the chief 

When the old medicine-man came in he was 
horrified to see the ruler of his nation gliding 
alK)ut the floor with considerable ease, and list- 
ened with terror to the chief's command that 
he, too, must acquire this art. But he did not 
dare refuse ; and, besides, the clever old man 
foresaw that skating would be the fashion as 
soon as the knowledge that the chief had 
patronized it should become general. 

I do not think the chief was ever more amused 
in his life than when he watched Rattle-box take 
his first instruction on the rollers. He laughed 
till he cried, and even permitted the guards to 
laugh, too. But the medicine-man was an apt 
pupil, and before long there was a quartette of 
fairly skilful performers on the floor. 

for the .sport. .Soon the craze was so general 
that the chief had to make penalties for those 
who skated except at certain legal hours. 

Marmaduke could by this time readily make 
himself understood in simple sentences, though 
he was not far enough advanced to comprehend 
much that was said ; and one day he announced 
that he was ready to return to New York. 

" But they '11 never let us go in the world," 1 
said, somewhat out of temper. For, to tell the 
truth, I was not at all pleased with Marmaduke's 
apparent interest in this barbarous people. 

" Oh yes, they will," said he. " You will see. 
We '11 just get into a boat and row away." 

" And be a target for all the bowmen in the 
island ! " I said. " You 've had wonderful luck 
so far, I admit. But I don't care to run a 
skating-rink for Corean savages all my life." 

" Nor do I," said Marmaduke. " I'm going 
to give a grand tournament with prizes, and 
then give up the business and leave Tongaloo 

" And be eaten at the conclusion of the tour- 
nament ! " 

Then we threw open the doors to the pub- '• I think not," he said, and turned again to 

lie, and gave a grand exhibition. It would no his work. He was painting a large poster, with 

doubt have run (or skated) a hundred nights or native dyes, representing a grand skating-race. 

more. The success of the art was assured, and Over the top he had printed in large letters : 
the next month was one long term of skating 
school. We had plenty of skates, and the chief 
caused a large floor to be lai<l and roofed over " There ! " said he, as he finished, " now you 

The To.\gai.oo Tournament. 



must do all you can to make the thing a 
success I " 

So I did. I went about all day among the 
skaters, saying : 

given, and away they went — clatter, clatter, 
clitter, clutter I down the roatl. 

Gradually Marmaduke and I, though appa- 
rently making unusual exertions, fell behind, and 

" Bonga Tongaloo tournament," " Vanga goo as soon as the crowd had gained a good lead 
Tongaloo tournament," and other such phrases on us we sat down, cut oft" our skates, and 
as Marmaduke taught me. These words meant, struck out across country for the beach. 



he said, that it was all the rage, and f/ic correct 

At last the great day arrived. The chief had 
furnished the minor prizes, but the great event 
of all was to be the final, straightaway race 
open to all comers ; and for this the first prize 
was to be Marmaduke's gold watch, and the 
second my stylographic pen. 

The course was laid out along the best native 
road, which Marmaduke had taught them to 
macadamize for the occasion. The distance 
was to be a mile out and then back again to 
the starting point. 

Every able-bodied islander was entered, and 
Marmaduke and I put on our skates with the 

Amid tremendous excitement, the signal was 
Vol. XVni. — 49. 

One or two of the nearest skaters stared after 
us, and then tried to pursue. But as they for- 
got to remove their skates, as soon as they 
reached rough ground they went over upon 
their noses, like ninepins, and in a few minutes 
we were far ahead. 

We gained the beach just as the foremost 
pursuers began to push their way through the 
bushes, and, climbing into a boat, away we shot 
toward a neighboring island which was occu- 
pied by a more civilized race. 

Well, we escaped without being hit by a sin- 
gle arrow, and sailed for New York shortly 

" .\nd the best of it is," said Uncle Ben, " the 
demantl for skates has continued steady in that 



island ever since, and both Marmaduke and I the youngest niece, and then, putting her fin- 
made a very handsome competence from the gers to her lips, she said, " Oh, I forgot," and 
commissions." all the children filed away to supper in thought- 
•• Oh, Uncle Ben, is that a true story ?" asked ful silence. 

lick niock y^oes the clock 
^ (^umjbled litHe p-ed, 

^ust dt/5ix Ijkakve my tea^ , 

Jf VV>-*^ 


Bv Walter Jerrold. 

SHOULD like in though full of fire and energy, he did not asso- 
these pages to pre- date much with other children. Indeed, in after 
sent to the readers years, he laughingly said that at Sheerness his 
of St. Nicholas a only companion was the " little buoy at the 
better and truer pic- Nore," and, he would add, " The only athletic 
ture of my grand- sport I ever mastered was backgammon." 
father, Douglas Jer- Wishing, as he did, to join the navy, Douglas 
rold, than is the one Jerrold had this desire pardy realized while he 
commonly drawn of was still ver)' young. He was not quite eleven 
him. A picture, that years of age when he became a "first-class vol- 
is, of the hardworking, painstaking youth, strug- unteer" on board His Majesty's* ship " Namur." 
gling for name and fame in the battle of life, and The Namur was the guard-ship at the Nore, 
of the kindly, genial, sympathetic man of letters and Jerrold soon realized that life on board was 
when he had taken his place among the lead- not quite what he had supposed. It is true, 
ing men of his time. though, that the time (rather more than a year 
Douglas Jerrold was born in London on the and a quarter) spent on board the Namur was 
3d of January, 1803. His early years were not unpleasantly nor unprofitably passed. Cap- 
passed in Kent, first near Cranbrook and after- tain Austen (a brother of Miss Jane Austen, the 
ward at Sheerness, where he very early evinced novelist) was a good, kindly man ; the young mid- 
a desire to go to sea. This desire is not to shipman was allowed to keep pigeons on board, 

be wondered at, for there were stirring times, 
then, for the British navy. It was the time 
when Napoleon was at the height of his power, 
when his victorious armies were cowing the 
whole of the continent ; when England alone 
seemed capable of withstanding his progress, and 
continued to maintain her supremacy of the 
sea. In 1805, Trafalgar had been fought and 
won, and the British navy was perhaps at the 
very acme of its power and glory. Sheerness, 
where Douglas Jerrold lived from rSoy to 181 2, 
was full of naval officers and seamen, and 

and to spend many hours in the captain's cabin 
reading such books as could be found there, 
notably Buffon's " Natural History." A love of 
animals was all his life long a strongly marked 
characteristic. It was on board the Namur, too, 
that Douglas Jerrold first met Clarkson Stanfield 
(who afterward became famous as an artist), with 
whom he used to get up private theatricals and 
entertainments. Altogether, life on board the 
Namur cannot have been very unpleasant to 
the young midshipman, who was, however, thirst- 
ing for a more active part. In April, 1815, he 

we may be sure that innumerable tales of the succeeded in getting transferred from His Maj- 
iniquity of " Boney " and his " mounseers " must esty's guard-ship Namur to His Majesty's brig 

have reached the ears of the boy, firing him 
with an ambition to distinguish himself in the 
way that Nelson had done. It was at Sheer- 
ness that Douglas went to school, though but 
for a short time ; it was at Sheerness, too, that 
he began to show evidence of a remarkable avid- 
ity for reading. A slight, fair-haired, and fair- 

" Ernest." The brig was engaged in transporting 
English soldiers to the continent and in bring- 
ing home invalided and wounded men ; so that 
though Jerrold had none of the awful excite- 
ment of action, he had horrible experience of 
its results, when, in the cockpit of the Ernest, 
soldiers w-ere brought home, shattered and 

complexioned boy, constitutionally not strong, maimed, to the country they had recently left 

• George III. 


nouci.As jERROi.u: a sketch ok his I. iff:. 


in good lic.iltli ami full glow of enthusiasm. The 
effect of such scenes on a highly sensitive nature 
at a most impressionable period of life might well 
be imagined, even though we did not know of 
their deep and lasting effect on Douglas Jerrold, 
who to the end of his days was always among 
the foremost in denouncing war, and oppression 
of all kinds. Scarcely a work which he has writ- 
ten but bears evidence of it. With the midsum- 
mer of 1815 came the battle of Waterloo and 
the final overthrow of the power of Napoleon. 
Only live days before that decisive batde, the 
brig Ernest had entered Ostend harbor along 
with several transports crowded with soldiers 
destined to take part in the great encounter 
of Wellington and Bonaparte. After Waterloo, 
peace was not long in coming ; and with peace 
came orders to pay off the company of many a 
ship, among others that of the brig Ernest, and on 
October 21, 1815, Midshipman Jerrold stepped 
on shore and turned his back forever on the 
sea as the field where he should strive to win 
renown. A story connected with Jerrold's 
short period of naval service may well find a 
place here. On one occasion the midshipman, 
having gone ashore with the captain, was left 
for a time in charge of the boat. While the 
captain was away, two of the men asked for 
permission to go and buy something. Permis- 
sion was given by their youthful and too good- 
natured officer, who added : 

" By the way, you may as well buy me some 
apples and a few pears." 

'■ All right, sir," said the men, and off they 

The captain returned, but not the men; 
search was made for them, but they were not 
to be found ; they had deserted, and Midship- 
man Jerrold was in sad disgrace. The event 
made a lasting impression upon him, so deep a 
one indeed that he said he could recognize 
the deserters at any time, as indeed he did. 
Some thirty years afterward, as he was passing 
along the Strand, the e.x-midshipman was struck 
by the appearance of a baker's man, who was 
looking into a shop window ; he walked up to 
him, and rapping him sharjjly on the back, said : 

" I say, my friend, don't you think you 've 
been rather a long time about that fruit ? " 

The deserter was horror-striick at being dis- 

covered, and could only gasp out, " Lor' ! sir, 
is that you?" when Jerrold went on his way 

After he left the navy it was not very long be- 
fore Douglas Jerrold's energies were devoted 
to another occupation. At the close of the 
year his family left Sheerness and removed to 
London, reaching that city on the first day of 
January, 1816. Douglas was then but thirteen 
years of age. Shortly after arriving in London 
he was apprenticed to a printer. He had, as I 
have mentioned, already shown a great taste 
for reading ; he welcomed, therefore, the work 
of a compositor, as it brought a yet closer ac- 
([uaintance with books. Indeed he had already 
begun to think of writing, as the following 
story shows. A Mr. Wilkinson, an actor who 
had come to London about this time, called 
on the Jerrolds. " I cannot forget," he wrote 
long afterward, " how glad Douglas was to see 
me, and how sanguine he was of my success, 
saying, ' Oh ! Mr. Wilkinson, you are sure to 
succeed, and I '11 write a piece for you.' I gave 
him credit for his kind feeling," adds the actor, 
" but doubted his capacity to fulfil his promise." 
The promise was, however, duly fulfiUetl, as we 
shall shortly see. Not only was the boy already 
dreaming of work to be done, but he was striv- 
ing hard and making himself fit to do that work. 

A compositor's is not by any means a light oc- 
cupation, and it was even less so in the earlier 
part of this century. But though he had to 
be at his work early and to remain at it late, 
Douglas Jerrold would be up with the first 
peep of day that he might get on with the 
various studies which he had mapped out for 
himself Miscellaneous reading was continued 
at every available opportunity. Shakspere was 
taken up at this time and every line of the 
great plays devoured. The novels of Walter 
Scott were borrowed from a library, and eagerly 
enjoyed, Douglas reading them aloud to his 

Already, too, he was beginning to use the 
pen. About a year after making the prom- 
ise to Mr. Wilkinson, the piece was written 
(1818) and sent in to the English Opera House, 
where it lay for two years before the young 
author succeeded even in getting it back. How- 
ever, in 1821, Wilkinson was acting at Sadler's 


Wells Theater, and there was produced, on 
April 30th of that year, the farcical comedy in 
two acts, " More Frightened than Hurt." The 
play, much to the gratification of the ambitious 
young author, proved a great success. Shortly 
after this piece was written, but some time before 
it was acted, Douglas Jerrold was transferred 
to the printing-office of the Sunday Monitor 
of London, in which paper appeared one of 
the earliest pieces of his writing. As young 
Benjamin Franklin had done in similar circum- 
stances, Douglas Jerrold wrote a short paper 
and dropped it in the editor's letter-box. It may 
be easily imagined how pleased he was the fol- 
lowing morning when his own manuscript was 
given him to set up in type, and when he saw 
a line written on it from the editor asking for 
further contributions from the anonymous writer. 
Ever hard at work in the early morning, and 
late at night continuing his studies, he was yet 
finding time to try his hand at occasional verses 
and sketches, and sending them in to the various 
minor magazines of the day. His sisters could 
recall the delight with which he would rush 
into the room with some fresh periodical in 
his hand, shouting "It's in, it's in!" The 
" Monitor's " dramatic criticisms were entrusted 
to him and, as similar work increased, he took 
the bold step of leaving the compositor's case and 
adopting writing as his profession. He was not 
yet twenty-one, but that he had not over-esti- 
mated his own abilities was soon pro\ed. By 
the year 1824, in addition to his miscellaneous 
writing, four plays of his had been produced, 
and in the year following he was appointed 
play-writer to the Coburg Theater at a weekly 
salary, to write " pieces, dramas, farces, and 
dramatic squibs," whenever they were required. 
He was already becoming conscious of his 
literary powers, and his friends were, too, as 
we may see by the following extract from a 
sonnet addressed to him during this year (1824) 
by his friend Laman Blanchard : 

The time shall be 
When men may find a music in thy name, 

To rouse deep fancies and opinions free ; 
.\fTeclions fervid as the sun's bright flame. 

And sympathies unfathonrd as the sea. 

The time which his friend thus foretold for 
him was vet to come ; meanwhile, he never 


stopped for a single day in pursuit of his studies. 
Latin, French, and Italian all had to be mas- 
tered — and indeed were mastered in course of 
time, by dint of incessant hard work. For about 
four years did " little Shakspere in a camlet 
cloak," as some of his friends at this time nick- 
named Jerrold, continue his engagement at the 
Coburg Theater. In 1829, having quarreled with 
the manager of the Coburg, and having to look 
about for a fresh field for his dramatic labors, he 
turned toward the Surrey Theater. An engage- 
ment similar to the other one was entered into, 
and Jerrold handed to Elliston, the manager of 
the Surrey Theater, the manuscript of a new 
piece as a beginning. On June 8, 1829, that 
play was produced — it was " Black-Eyed Su- 
san," and it proved a greater success than any 
previous dramatic venture. Other plays were 
written during the same year, and in 1830 
came " Thomas a Becket," a higher form of 
drama than any the writer had then tried. 
This also, was very successful, and the author 
was duly complimented. A friend congratu- 
lated him, saying, " You '11 be the Surrey Shak- 
spere." " The sorry Shakspere, you mean," 
was Jerrold's modest reply. 

From this time his fame as a dramatist was 
assured, and before long his comedies and 
dramas were delighting large audiences at the 
leading theaters, as they had already done for 
some time at the minor ones. It was sug- 
gested that he should adapt a piece from the 
French (as so many other dramatists then 
did) for the Drury Lane stage. " No," was 
his indignant reply, " I will come into this thea- 
ter as an original dramatist, or not at all." All 
his life long he bitterly protested against the 
fashion of translating and adapting, which ex- 
cluded the work of native writers, and gave a 
reputation to men for work which they had not 
originated. Talking once with Mr. Planche (a 
noted adapter of plays) on this question, Planche 
insisted that some of his characters were original. 

" Don't you remember," he said, " m\ Biironcss 
in ' Ask No Questions ' ? " 

" Yes, indeed. I don't think I ever saw a 
piece of yours without being struck by your 
barrenness," was the pointed reply. 

Contributing to various periodicals of the day 
and continuous writing of new plays occupied 




Douglas Jerrold for the few years next follow- 
ing. The well-known domestic drama of " The 
Rent Day" was produced in 1832. During its 
rehearsal the author and Clarkson Stanfield 
met in the dingy little theater for the first time 
since they had parted on board the Namur 
some sixteen years before. 

William Godwin, the venerable author of 
" Political Justice," who was father-in-law of the 
poet Shelley, became one of Douglas Jerrold's 
friends during the earlier part of his career. Of 
one visit to the Godwins, Jerrold often told 
afterward. He was a clever whistler, and 
was very fond of exercising the gift ; " he whis- 
tled," as his younger daughter tells me, " like 
any blackbird or lark." One day, having called 
upon the Godwins, he was kept waiting in the 
drawing room for a few minutes ; regardless of 
" appearances," he began to whistle, " with varia- 
tions enough to satisfy the most ambitious of 
thrushes. Suddenly good little Mrs. Godwin 
gently opened the door, paused — not seen 
by the performer — to catch the dying notes 
of the air, and then, coming up to her visitor, 
.startled him with the request, made in all se- 
riousness, ' You could 7/7 whistle that again, 
Mr. Jerrold, could you ? ' " 

From about 1830, Douglas Jerrold's posi- 
tion began to be much more assured ; he 
was writing plays which were successful, and 
contributing sketches and reviews to many of 
the important periodicals. A great deal of 
work was done between 1830 and 1840, but 
I have not space to enter into any detail of 
it here. By the last-named year, indeed, he 
had won no mean position for himself in the 
world of letters. He had had a hard fight 
against many adverse circumstances, but had 
succeeded in overcoming them all. I have al- 
ready mentioned that several languages were 
learned by dint of early rising and hard work. 
" No man," he was known afterwards to say, 
" ever achieved anything in life without having 
got up at six o'clock every morning at some 
period of his life." In the year 1838, Douglas 
Jerrold gathered together some of his sketches 
and, with additional ones, published them in three 
volumes as '■ Men of Character." They were 
illustrated by no less a person than William Make- 
peace Thackeray. In 1 840, he became editor of 

that widely known and well appreciated .series 
of sketches which bears the name of " Heads 
of the People." Illustrated by Kenny Mead- 
ows, the sketches were written by Thackeray, 
Richard Hengist Home, Laman Blanchard, 
Jerrold himself, and other well-known writers. 
The papers contributed to the series by the 
editor bear the title of " Sketches of the Eng- 
lish " in his collected works. 

In 1841, a new field in which to display his 
genius was opened up to Jerrold, when on 
the 17th of July of that year, Henry Mayhew 
(who married Jerrold's elder daughter) started 
Piinc/i on its most successful career. The pages 
of that w'ell-known periodical were destined to 
receive some of the most popular of Jerrold's 
writings and also some of his most mature and 
characteristic work. When the paper started, 
my grandfather was in Boulogne, and though 
he had been in\ited to contribute to the new 
venture, nothing was received from him in time 
for the first number ; his earliest contribution ap- 
peared in the second number and thenceforward 
with hardly a week's intermission he continued 
to contribute up to the time of his death in 1857. 
There is no space for me to linger over this 
period, so I can do no more than mention 
some of Jerrold's more famous contributions to 
Piiiicli. First, there were the numberless fan- 
ciful, yet thoughtful, articles signed " Q.," which 
in no small degree contributed to gain for 
Punch that political power which he has so 
long wielded. Then came " Punch's Letters to 
his Son " ; the delicate " Story of a Feather " ; 
the remarkably popular " Mrs. Caudle's Cur- 
tain Lectures " ; and numerous short sketches, 
tales, paragraphs, squibs, and all the miscellanea 
of wit and wisdom for which Punch at once 
gained a name. 

Various periodicals were started and contin- 
ued by Douglas Jerrold during the decade 
1840-1850, but in 1852, on accepting the edi- 
torship of Lloyd's Weekly A^eu's/>(iJ>er, he found 
himself addressing an enormously large circle 
of readers. In the columns of that pa])er, the 
weekly circulation of which increa.sed by thou- 
sands, a])peared some of the best and most in- 
fluential of his political writings. 

When Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, visited 
England in 1853, Jerrold started a collection of 



penny subscriprions for a national present to 
him. The pence were collected, and, Kossuth 
having learned English by studying Shakspere 
in an Austrian prison, a magnificent set of the 
great poet's works was bought, inclosed in a 
casket model of Shakspere's house, and publicly 
presented to Kossuth by my grandfather, in the 
name of the people of England. 

I have roughly outlined my grandfather's life 
and work. Toward a better understanding of 
him it is now necessary to give some account of 
him personally, of his home life at Putney, 
where, acknowledged as among the great men 
of the day, and surrounded by his family and a 
large circle of friends, some of his happiest years 
were spent. 

To give some idea of Douglas Jerrold at 
home, let me quote a passage from what his 
eldest son has written on the subject : " It is a 
bright morning, about eight o'clock, at West 
Lodge. The windows at the side of the old 
house, buried in trees, afford glimpses of a broad 
common tufted with purple heather and yellow 
gorse. Gipsies are encamped where the blue 
smoke curls amid the elms. A window sash is 
shot sharply up. A clear, small voice is heard 
singing within. And now a long roulade, whistled 
softly, floats out. A little, spare figure with a 
stoop, habited in a short shooting-jacket, the 
throat quite open, without collar or kerchief, 
and crowned with a straw hat, pushes through 
the gate of the cottage, and goes with short 
quick steps, assisted by a stout stick, over the 
common. A little black-and-tan terrier follovfrs, 
and rolls over the grass at intervals, as a response 
to a cheery word from its master. The gipsy 
encampment is reached. The gipsies know 
their friend, and a chat and a laugh ensue. 
Then a deep gulp of the sweet morning air, 
a dozen branches pulled to the nose, here 
and there in the garden, the children kissed, 
and breakfast and the morning papers. 

"The breakfast is a jug of cold, new milk, 
some toast, bacon, water-cresses. A long ex- 
amination of the papers — here and there a bit 
of news energetically read aloud, then cut, and 
put between clippers. Then silently, suddenly, 
into the study. 

" This study is a very snug room. All about it 
are books. Crowning the shelves are Milton 

and Shakespere. A bit of Shakespere's mul- 
berry tree lies upon the mantelpiece. Above 
the sofa are " The Rent Day " and " Distrain- 
ing for Rent," Sir David Wilkie's pictures. In 
the corner of one is Wilkie's inscription to the 
the author of the drama called "The Rent Day." 
The furniture is simple, solid oak. The desk 
has not a speck upon it. The marble shell, 
upon which the inkstand rests, has no litter in 
it. Various notes lie in a row, between clips, 
on the table. The paper-basket stands near 
the armchair, prepared for answered letters and 
rejected contributions. The little dog follows 
his master into the study and lies at his feet. 

"Work begins. Kit be a comedy, the author 
will now and then walk rapidly up and down the 
room, talking wildly to himself; if it be Punch 
copy, you shall hear him laugh presently as he 
hits upon a droll bit. 

" Suddenly the pen is put down, and through 
a little conservatory, without seeing anybody, the 
author passes out into the garden, where he 
talks to the gardener, or watches, chuckling the 
while, the careful steps of the little terrier amid 
the gooseberry bushes; or plucks a hawthorn leaf, 
and goes nibbling it, and thinking, down the side 
walks. In again and vehemently to work. The 
thought has come ; and, in letters smaller than 
the type in which they shall presently be set, it 
is unrolled along the little blue slips of paper. 
The work goes rapidly forward, and halts at 
last suddenly. The pen is dashed aside ; a 
few letters, seldom more than three lines in 
each, are written and despatched to the post ; 
and then again into the garden. The fowls and 
pigeons are noticed ; a visit is paid to the horse 
and cow ; then another long turn ; at last, a 
seat, with a quaint old volume, in the tent 
under the umbrageous mulberry tree." 

In person Douglas Jerrold was very short; 
writing at the age of twenty-four, of the " Drill 
Sergeant," he said, " We feel our safety and glory 
in the height of five feet one." No one could 
fail to be struck by the handsome head with its 
long silvery hair, the face with its large bushy 
eyebrows over piercing blue eyes, the firm de- 
termined chin and fine mobile mouth. " No 
marble, nor photograph, nor oil-painting has 
given the fire that was in that face." 

He was of a remarkably affectionate and 


sympathetic character, as his numerous friends 
were aware. Indeed, no better refutation of the 
common notion of his bitterness and cj'nicism 
can be given than by quoting words writ- 
ten of him by jjeople who knew him well. Mr. 
and Mrs. Cowden Clarke said in their delight- 
ful " Recollections of Writers " : " The leading 
characteristic of Douglas Jerrold's nature was 
earnestness. He was earnest in his abhorrence 

of all things mean and interested ; earnest in his 
noble indignation at wrong and oppression ; 
earnest in the very wit with which he vented 
his sense of detestation for evil-doing. He was 
deeply earnest in all serious things; and very 
much in earnest when deahng with matters 
apparently less important which he thought 
needed the scourge of a sarcasm. .'\ny one 
who could doubt the earnestness of Jerrold, 
should have seen him when a child was the 
topic ; the fire of his eye, the quiver of his lip, 
bore witness to the truth of the phrase he 
himself uses in his charming drama of ' The 
.Schoolfellows,' showing that to him, indeed, 
'Children are sacred things!'" 

Charles Dickens said: "Few of his friends, 
I think, can have had more favorable oppor- 
tunities of knowing him in his gentlest and 
most affectionate aspect than I have had. He 
was one of the gentlest and most affectionate 
of men. I remember very well when I first 
saw him, in about the year 1835, when I went 
into his sick-room in Thistle Grove, Brompton, 
and found him propped up in a great chair; 
bright-eyed and quick, and eager in spirit, but 
very lame in body, he gave me an impression 
of tenderness. It never became dissociated 
from him. There was nothing cynical or sour 
in his heart, as I knew it. In the company of 
children and young people he was particularly 
happy, and showed to extraordinary advantage. 
He never was so gay, so sweet-tempered, so 
pleasing and so pleased as then." 

Mr. Hannay, too (in the Atlantic Monthly for 
Nov. 1857), wrote in a graceful and sympathetic 
tribute to my grandfather's memory shortly after 
his death : " He had none of the airs of suc- 
cess or reputation — none of the affectations, 
either personal or social, which are rife every- 
where. He was manly and natural — free and 
off-handed to the verge of eccentricity. Inde- 
pendence and marked character seemed to 
breathe from the little, rather bowed figure 
crowned with a lion-like head and falling light 
hair — to glow in the keen, eager blue eyes 
glancing on either side as he walked along. 
Nothing could be less commonplace, nothing 
less conventional, than his appearance in a 
room or in the streets." 

Yet another friend wrote : " I found him the 
most genial, sincere, and fatherly of men." And, 
yet again, Mr. Hepworth Dixon, writing in the 
At/wnaum, said that if every one who had re- 
ceived a kindness at the hands of Douglas Jer- 
rold flung a flower upon his grave, the spot 
would be marked by a monument of roses. 

Yet another friend who knew him well wrote : 
" He will be recalled by those who knew and 
loved him, not by any high-sounding appella- 
tion, but by some affectionate and soft diminu- 
tive — not as brilliant Douglas, or magnificent 
Douglas, but simply and fondly asr/rar Douglas." 

I have already alluded to my grandfather's 
love of animals; his delight in children is grace- 
fully touched upon in the words quoted above 


from Dickens and the Cowden Clarkes. From 
the time when as a child officer in the navy he 
kept pigeons and read Buftbn's" Natural His- 
tor)-" on board the Namur, he was always fond 
of animals, and ever had some fresh anecdote 
to tell of them. A favonte black cat of his, 
named " Chum," used to sit on the corner of his 
desk, watching his busy pen with apparent 
interest, often, too, with a quill pen in its mouth. 
Frequently when working in his study, Douglas 
Jerrold would have Chum on the desk, a pet 
terrier, " Mouse," at his feet, and " Vix," a bull- 
terrier, under his chair. Many were the tales 
told of little Mouse, how jealous she was of 
any attention paid to the cat; how, too, she 
would beg " like a prince of the blood." 
Mouse and Vix always went with their master 
on his morning's walk. Writing from Brighton 
but two months before his death, he finishes his 
letter with " love to all (Mouse included)." 

The following simple anecdote shows, I think, 
my grandfather's kindliness of nature as well 
as anything can. While living at Putney he 
ordered a brougham, plain and quiet, to be 
built for him. He went one morning to the 
coach-builder's shop to see the new carriage. 
Its surface was without a speck. " Ah ! " said 
the customer as he turned to the back of the 
vehicle, " its polish is perfect now ; but the 
urchins will soon cover it with scratches." 

" But, sir, I can put a few spikes here, that 
will keep any urchins oftV' the coach-maker 

" By no means, man," was the sharp, severe 
reply. " And know that, to me, a thousand 
scratches on my carriage would be more wel- 
come than one on the hand of a footsore lad, to 
whom a stolen lift might be a godsend." 

This short paper may fitly be concluded with 
a few specimens of Douglas Jerrold's wit in 
conversation. Examples might be multiplied 
a hundredfold, but half a dozen must suffice 

— A prosy gentleman was in the habit of stop- 
ping, if he met Jerrold, to have a chat in the 
street. Jerrold disliked this. One day Prosy 
met his victim and, planting himself in the 


way, .said. " Well, Jerrold, what is going on 
to-day ? " 

Jerrold replied (sharply dashing past the in- 
quirer) : " I am." 

— The discussion on music, at a social club 
to which Jerrold belonged, was animated, and a 
certain song was cited as an exquisite composi- 
tion. " That song," exclaimed an enthusiast, 
" always carries me away when I hear it! " 

Jerrold asked (looking eagerly round the 
table) : " Can anybody whistle it ? " 

— Jerrold and Laman Blanchard were stroll- 
ing together about London, earnestly discussing a 
plan for joining Byron, in Greece. Jerrold, telling 
the story long after, said, " But a shower of rain 
came on and washed all the Greece out of us." 

— In the midst of a stormy discussion, a gentle- 
man rose to settle the matter in dispute. Waving 
his hand majestically over the excited dispu- 
tants he began : '• Gentlemen, all I want is 
common sense! — " 

"Exactly," Jerrold interrupted. The discus- 
sion was lost in a burst of laughter. 

— " Call that a kind man ? " said an actor, 
speaking of an absent acquaintance — "a man 
who is away from his family, and never sends 
them a farthing ? Call that kindness ? '' 

" Yes, unremitting kindness," Jerrold repHed. 

— Jerrold said to an ardent young gentleman 
who longed to see himself in print : " Be advised 
by me, young man ; don't take down the shut- 
ters before there is something in the window." 

— When an elderly lady complained, perhaps 
rather affectedly, that her hair was turning gray 
from her using essence of lavender (as she said), 
Jerrold asked whether it was n't essence of thyme. 

— Jerrold went to a party at which a Mr. Pep- 
per had assembled all his friends. On entering 
the room he said to his host : " My dear Mr. 
Pepper, how glad you must be to see all your 
friends mustered ! " 

— An old lady was in the habit of talking to 
Jerrold, in a gloomy depressing manner, pre- 
senting to him only the sad side of life. " Hang 
it !" said Jerrold one day after a long and som- 
ber interview, '' she would n't allow there was a 
bright side to the moon." 


IJv J. ( ). Davidson. 

[Bt-g-iiii in the May iiamier.] 

Chapter VI. 


The next morning Ben and the boys were 
aroused at an early hour, and were set to work 
on one of the largest junks, which was being 
fitted out for sea. They worked steadily all 
the morning. 

At noon the door of Frank's prison was sud- 
denly fiung open and against the strong light 
appeared the figure of the chief. Two of his 
guards were stationed outside, and as he en- 
tered Frank noticed that the uniform of the 
previous day had been changed for a still 
plainer dress of white duck canvas which 
fitted closely to the chief's slender figure. A 
glittering shirt of mail was hardly concealed 
beneath his shirt, while a fine revolver and 
heavy-handled creese hung at his side. 

Pausing midway in the room, he extended a 
paper and bade Frank read it. It was a de- 
mand on Frank's company to pay $5000 for 
the young commander's ransom and $2000 
more for that of Ben and the boys. " You see, 
Mr. Austin," said the chief politely, " that I 
have acceded to your wishes regarding your 
men. As you evidently value them highly, I 
conclude they must be of some worth to your 
employers also. So I have set what seems a 
proper price on their services. Sign a post- 
script indorsing that demand, and in a few 
days you will probably be on your way to China 
again. Refuse, and you go to work to-morrow 
with the rest of the slaves." 

" Allow me to consult with my men when they 
return," responded Frank, with eijual courtesy, 
" and I will give you an immediate answer." 

When Frank's comrades returned from work, 
he laid before them the chief's demand. After 
much opposition on Frank's part, Ben pre- 
vailed upon the young captain to accept it. 

'• Vou see, sir," Ben reasoned, '• if you get 
back safely you can send help to the rest of 
us. Whereas, if we all remain, it means sure 
death to us in a few weeks at the most. The 
work is so hard, now, that I can hardly stand 
under it. I saw a young fellow about your 
own age cruelly beaten to-day because he 
could not carry a heavy beam across the ship- 
yard. The poor lad was soon afterwards sun- 
struck. The heat out there is terrible. You 
could n't endure it a single week, I know." 

Convinced by Ben's reasoning, the next 
morning Frank sent the chief word that he 
would accept the proposal, and the necessary 
agreement having been .signed he was returned 
to his prison. 

Late at night, Ben and the boys returned 
from their work, even more exhausted than 
they had been the previous day. Not only had 
the labor demanded of them been very severe, 
but a slave-driver had lashed them unmerci- 
fully whenever they showed any signs of fail- 
ing. Something unusual was evidently on foot 
in the settlement, for great activity prevailed in 
the shipyard, making the junks ready for sea; 
even two old battered hulks, hardly fit to sail, 
were towed around from the river, and were 
being patched up as well as possible. A night 
gang had been added to hasten the work, and 
the sounds of industry continued late into the 
morning hours. 

Soon after daylight the chief appeared, sur- 
rounded by his guards, and invited Frank to 
take a walk with him. He was perfectly cour- 
teous in his manner, now that he had gained 
his point about the ransom papers, and seemed 
even sociably inclined. 

As they approached the river, Frank noticed 
many changes in the village. Most of the 
houses seemed deserted, while busy crowds of 
workmen thronged the beach. Here and there 
huge fires were burning, at which the women 



prepared quantities of rations for the hungry toward the boats. The hot sun poured down on 
laborers. tlie struggling mass of men as they were urged 
Enormous sails of matting were spread on on by the whip of the overseer. Frank saw Ben 
the sands, each surrounded by dexterous struck by the cruel lash, and sick at heart he 
workers repairing rents, or plaiting new turned to the chief, imploring him to have com- 
breadths. Under some palm-trees several passion on his friends. He begged that, for a 
fierce-looking blacksmiths were at work, forg- while at least, they might be relieved of their 
ing together broken links of chains, and fash- tasks. Gladly would Frank have interceded 
ioning various pieces of iron-work required for for the rest, also, but he knew his interference 
the shipping. Near the forge Stood little would be of no avail, 
boys, to blow the curious leather cyHnder bel- 
lows. At a spring hard by, one gang of men 
were filling water-casks, which when ready 
were towed out to junks anchored in mid- 
stream. On board these vessels, a busy throng chief's knowledge of an event which had hap- 
of sla\es were scraping and painting, like a pened some two years before, when Frank was 
swarm of bees; while the resounding blows upon a vessel of that name. "Ben Herrick, 
of hammers told of native ship-carpenters in- there, fired the shot. ' 

dustriously at work. High up the masts hung " Then he can be relieved," answered the 

clusters of swarthy sailors, fixing top-hamper to chief, graciously, 
the yards, or reeving fresh running-rigging. At Ben was at once ordered out of the gang of 

" Were any of those men w ith )ou when the 
' Arizona ' fired at the waterspout, in the Mal- 
acca Straits ? " the pirate asked. 

'' Yes," responded Frank, astonished at the 

toilers. He was much surprised at his release, 
and thanked Frank heartilv for his intervention. 


one spot on shore, slaves were busih- twisting 
strands into a huge grass rope, or hawser, of im- 
mense length and strength. 

As Frank moved about 
with the chief amid scenes 
of busy confusion, he per- 
ceived that the pirate chief 
evidently possessed all the 
requirements necessary to 
the leader of a crowd of 
such men. Constantly be- 
sieged by questions from all 
sides regarding the ^vork in 
progress, his orders were 
always promptly given. In 
many cases he even cor- 
rected with his own hands 
the faulty work of some of 
the less skilful men. Pass- 
ing quickly from group to 
group, he gave orders and advice with such '• You see, sir," he said, " I 'm not as young 
neri'Ous actixaty that the meanest slave seemed as Joe and Proddy, and I get tired sooner than 
to receive new energy from his example ; and I used to, on account of that hot sun. And I 
Frank could not but regret that a man of his would n't mind the work so much, if it were n't 
fine e.xecutive abilities should devote them to for that yellow rascal there, flourishing his whip 
the shameful purposes of piracy. over me all the time. It riles me, like ; and once 

On arriving at the landing, he saw Ben, or twice I told him pretty plainly what I thought 
Proddy, and Joe, amid the gangs of slaves who, of him. But he does n't like 'back talk,' and 
in pairs, were carrj'ing hea\y wooden anchors only thrashed the harder. M)- shoulder 's all 


CHAN ok; a romance OF THE EASTERN SEAS. 


a-blistcr wiih the thrashings that savage has 
given me, and that 's a fact." 

When Frank told Ben what the chief had 
said, the old man was puzzled. 

" How the chief here knows an\ thing about 
the old Arizona is beyond me! I wonder what 
that waterspout has to do with this business any- 
way ? " said the old man. But his curiosity 
was not gratified. 

Chapter VII. 


By noon all the preparations seemed to be 
finished, and all hands knocked off for " tiffin," 
and gathered under the shade of the wide, 
thatched house-porches, or under the forest 

During the afternoon the junks were towed 
out of the river and lay in the bay ready to put 
out to sea, while crowds lined the beach to bid 
their friends good-by and to wish them good 

.\s the evening shadows fell, two beacon fires 
flashed out on the high cliffs on both sides of 
the entrance to the landlocked harbor. One 
by one the junks now got under way. The 
heavy sails were spread; the crews manned the 
sweeps, and, setting up their rowing chants, sent 
the boats swiftly toward the harbor's mouth. 

The last one to leave was the pirate chiefs 
vessel, the largest, handsomest, and swiftest of 
the fleet. The tall, tapering masts, the huge, 
dark sails suspended from the yards, the two 
rows of dusky oarsmen extending forward on 
both sides of the deck, the heavy trestles for 
holding the booms, and the dark shapes of the 
cannon ranged along the low bulwarks made 
up a busy scene, of a certain w-ild and warlike 

On the high deck aft, the chief stood watch- 
ing the fires at the harbor entrance. These fires 
had now increased to twelve in number. 

Presently a bright flash pierced the darkness, 
and was followed by the report of a small can- 
non echoing across the water. At this a shout 
of aj>plause went up from those on the beach, 
for the signal denoted that twelve of the thirteen 
junks had passed safely through the dangerous 
way between the cliffs at the entrance. 

The cai)tain gave an order, a gong boomed 
in the gangway, the twenty sweeps struck the 
water together, and the swift vessel rapidly 
gathered headway. A cool night breeze just 
moved the rigging, and, as they passed through 
the gap, Frank noticed that one more fire was 
added to the others. Then all the fires sud- 
denly went out together, leaving the cliffs in 
darkness, with one solitary palm-tree standing 
black against the lighter sky. 

The oarsmen now broke into a wild, monoto- 
nous song, keeping time with the rush of their 
bending sweeps. When the land-breeze caught 
the great sails, the clipper slowly heeled to lee- 
ward and sped on into the gloom of the tropical 

As the island slowly faded from view, Frank 
noted that the great star of the Southern Cross 
just tipped the summit of the mountain, and 
that the rising moon bore a little off the star- 
board bow. As he turned toward the cabin, 
he overheard the captain talking to his lieuten- 
ant. This is what Frank made out : 

" When that French gunboat gets here to- 
morrow, she 'II be mightily surprised to find us 
gone and the .settlement deserted 1 — if she can 
get so far. But I doubt if they find the gap 
in the cliff Besides, if they had caught us 
inside, I 'm certain they never would have got 

" Yes, sir," replied the man, " they would 
have had a hard time. But it 's just as well we 
did n't meet them. Fighting cruisers is prof- 
itless work. They 're not such fat picking as 
the birds we are now after ! " 

Turning to Frank the captain said signifi- 
cantly : '• It 's not usual for us to keep prison- 
ers long, on this craft. They are too much 
trouble, and we usually believe in the rule that 
' dead men tell no tales,' but it happens that 
I have special reasons for treating you other- 
wise. Do not attempt to escape, for the crew 
have orders not to spare you if you should. 
Remember that. Come, we had better go be- 
low, as it is late." 

Frank followed him, and found himself in a 
spacious room, luxuriously fitted. The walls 
were co\ered with shields, armor, and curious 
swords, anil shaded lamps shed a soft glow over 
the rich fittings. 



" This is your apartment," said the chief, " and 
you can make yourself as comfortable here as 
you like. But do not try to leave it without 
permission from the guard outside. Now you 
must e.Kcuse me, as I have important duties 
to attend to elsewhere." Bowing politely, the 
chief withdrew. 

Left alone, Frank examined the various ob- 
jects in the saloon with great interest. Porce- 
lain vases adorned the corners; rich kincob 
cloths, or fabrics woven heavily with gold and 
silver threads worked in beautiful arabesque 
patterns, were seen here and there on the walls, 
while Delhi gold and silver ornaments deco- 
rated the panels. Rich Rampoor chuddah 
shawls, of texture so fine that they might easily 
be drawn through a finger-ring, draped the 
transoms, and on one side a cabinet flashed 
with tortoise-shell ware from Ceylon, pretty 
conches from the Malabar coast, and a hun- 
dred other adornments. 

Seeing an American repeating-rifle, Frank 
tried to take it down, but found that it was se- 
curely fastened to the wall, as were all the other 

Examining the panels beneath the draperies, 
Frank found them to be riveted iron. He then 
drew aside the curtains from the stem windows, 
and noticed that these were closely barred. The 
room was evidently intended to be used as a 
parlor, arsenal, or prison, at its owner's pleasure. 

Presently.a slight rustle attracted his attention, 

and turning around Frank found a doorway 
where a moment before he had seen nothing 
but a curtained wall. In this doorway stood 
the captain. 

" How do you like your quarters, Mr. .Aus- 
tin ? " he asked with a smile. 

" I am much surprised at their rich furniture," 
Frank replied. 

" It is my cabin, while in port. This one," he 
said, pointing through the doorway in which he 
stood, " is my sea room. Walk in and smoke a 
cigar, and have some wine." 

'■ Thank you, but I never indulge in either," 
was the reply. 

For a moment the captain eyed him search- 
ingly, then politely said : " As you please ; but 
\ou will have some fruit ? We rarely take it 
at night, in the East; but 1 know that you 
Europeans do." 

Touching a bell, an attendant entered bear- 
ing a tray loaded with oranges, pineapples, ba- 
nanas, and that delicious fruit only obtainable in 
the Eastern Seas, the mangosteen. 

Frank had noticed that everything in the 
room where they now were was as plain as the 
furnishing of the other was magnificent. Notic- 
ing his look, the captain remarked : '' These, 
as I told you, are my sea quarters ; everything 
is of the plainest and most substantial kind. 
I have to set my men an example in such things. 
They know that while ashore they can be idle 
and extravagant, if ihey can afford it ; but wlien 

ciiAX ok; a romance of the eastern seas. 


we are on hlue water, we attend to liusiness ! — 
and they must give their entire attention to the 
work in hand." 

After the)- had thus conversed pleasantly for 
a while, the captain turned to our hero, and 
exclaimed, with an air of frankness : 

" Mr. Au.stin, I have taken a fancy to you, 
and, to tell the truth, shall be loath to part 
with you when your ransom is paid. Now, 
I am about to make you 
an offer which }^ou may 
think unwarranted, com- 
ing from one you have 
known so short a time; 
but I have heard of you 
long before this. And, 
to tell the truth, I have 
some knowledge of al- 
most all who are engaged 
in mercantile pursuits on 
the Continent and the 
Islands. In fact, 
that is a necessity 
of my business," 
he said, with a 
significant smile. 
" My agents have 
kept me so well 
informed that I 
can name from my books almost e\'ery trip you 
have made, with your cargo and armament on 
each, and the size of the crew; but not until 
your last trip did I think you a sufficiently rich 
prize to risk a crew so far inland. You cost 
me some valuable men, sir, by your stubborn 
defense. ^Ve were scarcely prepared for such a 
sturdy resistance. But, as the last three junks 
your company have missed fell into my hands, 
I have no reason to be dissatisfied. I can prove 
to you what I say — those chuddahs in the 
saloon were among their cargoes. Now, sir, 
my offer to you is this : I wish you to act as my 
agent in Hong-Kong, .\fter paying your ran- 
som, you will be penniless and with a debt 
which it will require years for you to pay off. 
Your company has perfect confidence in you, 
and will be glad to get you back. You will 
be offered a good position by the company. 
.\ccept it, and be my agent at the same time. 
To send an account of the destination of vour 

vessels and their cargoes to my Canton agent 
is all I shall require of you. You will never 
be suspected, and in two years I will guarantee 
you an ample fortune, with which you may 

return to the United States, a wealthy man ; 
or you can remain as my lieutenant, and have 
one-quarter of all the ])rofits of my business. I 
shall give up the profession in a few years, 
having amassed an ample fortune." 

For an instant Frank was stunned by this of- 
fer from the man who but the day before had 
seemed to value him little higher than the mean- 
est slave. He sat silent for a moment, with 
flashing eyes, while the captain gazed search- 
ingly at him. Then the pirate exclaimed : 

'• You accept, sir. Your silence means con- 
sent ! " 

He attempted to take Frank's hanil. Spring- 
ing to his feet, the young American drew himself 
[iroudly back, exclaiming : 

" No, sir ! No. I do not accept your offer. 
What! — can you for a moment think that I 
would become a spy, and turn traitor to my em- 
ployers ? Accept their wages, and betray their 
trust in my honor? No! — a thousand times 


no ! Rather would I give up my life than live 
one day the vile wretch you seek to make 
me I " 

A look of furious passion swept over the pi- 
rate's face at these words, and suddenly, with a 
cry of rage, he drew a revolver and aimed it full 
in Frank's face. Instinctively, the boy glanced 
wildly about for some means of defense ; then, 
collecting himself, he folded his arms and, look- 
ing his captor firmly in the eye, asked quietly : 

" WeW, sir, why don't you fire ? You have 
me at your mercy. Surely one life more or less 
will make no difference to you among the many 
you have taken." 

The pirate, in spite of his anger, paused 
when he saw Frank's cool, courageous bearing ; 
and, slowly lowering his weapon, he replied : 

" Austin, you are a brave fellow 1 Once more 


I spare your hfe; but you shall yet do me the 
service I ask. Retire to your room ! " 

He motioned to Frank to be gone. 

" One moment, sir," replied Frank, turning 
as he reached the doorway. " You say you 
have a liking for me. If I have any influence 
whatever over you, let me appeal to what little 
good there may still be in you. Give up this 
vile trade while yet you are a young man, and 
capable, perhaps, of making some amends for 
the wrong you have done." 

Frank dropped the curtains, leaving the chief 
standing moodily under the swinging lamp. 

The young prisoner was now in no humor for 
sleep, and it was far toward morning before 
he ceased to revolve in his mind various plans 
for escape and for sending a cruiser to break 
up this nest of pirates. 

( Ti> ii' continttfd. ) 

So Wisdom began like her mimic to dress. 

And her manners have all grown so jolly, 
That now when you meet them you never can guess 

Which is Wisdom, and which one is Folly. 

Mildred Hoioells. 




By Teresa C. Croftox. 

Eighth Paper. point; for, because of burial, men's bones may 

~, , , , , be found amonsr the animals that have lain in 

Ihe Aire of Alan. , , ^ ° „, . , • , 

the earth for ages. There is one thmg, how- 

The past ages had prepared the earth so that ever, that gives us an inkling of when he came, 

men could live upon it. Certain tools, that only man could have made. 

Next came a time of smiling beauty. The have been found buried in caves, in peat beds, 

earth had been plowed with an icy plowshare ; and in the bottom of lakes. Often these are 

the rocks had been ground into soil for fields covered by layers of rock ; and, by calculating 

and gardens ; floods had distributed it over the how long it took to make the layers, a guess 

earth, and all was ready for the growth of grain, can be made as to when the tools were put 

the food for man and his herds. there. Still, it is only a guess, and no one 

The land was rich with flower and fruit, over pretends to regard the question as settled, be- 

which myriads of insects winged their busy cause under some conditions the layers would 

flight. Herds of cattle grazed in the green be made much faster than under others. But 

meadows. The air had been cleared of thick the bones of certain animals, the mammoth and 

mists and foul vapors, and blue skies looked other great creatures of that time, which have 

lovingly down on the pleasant vales of the long since died, have been found with these 

earth, when God created his last and noblest tools. By calculating in what age these ani- 

work — mankind. mals lived, and how long it takes a race 

The fact is always impressed upon us that of animals to die out, a surer result can be 
man is an animal. Well, to a certain extent arrived at. In a cave in England, buried 
he is. He eats and drinks and sleeps to sus- under a limestone layer from one to fifteen 
tain life, and so does an animal. But yet there inches thick, tools have been found mingled 
is a vast difference between man and brute. We with the bones of elephants, tigers, rhino- 
read of a wild man who was found in the woods ceroses, and hyenas, which roamed over that 
of an unfrequented part of France, in the early country thousands and thousands of years ago. 
part of this century. He had no language and The peat bogs of what is now Denmark and 
was without knowledge of human beings. Now, Scandinavia are filled with .stone tools. Some 
there was no reason why this man, if he were have been found in beds of gravel, underlying 
only an animal, should not have acted like one. peat which is certainly seven thousand years 
Yet he could appreciate the beauties of a foun- old. This seems to show that man must have 
tain and the glories of a moonlight night, and dwelt on earth at least as many years ago. 
would sit for hours admiring them. One could In Switzerland, one winter when it was very 
not for an instant mistake the look of intelligent cold, the rivers were frozen and the lakes were 
appreciation on his face for the look of a pleased very shallow. The people who lived on the 
ape. No ! God has given to man powers and border of one of the lakes determined to make 
attributes ihat crown him king of creation. their gardens larger, by running their side walls 

When was man first placed on earth ? No out into the lake and building a wall across to 

one can answer that (juestion. Hugh Miller shut out the lake. Then they were going to fill 

says that man's habit of burying his dead out of in the space thus enclosed, with mud taken from 

sight makes it very easy to be mistaken on that tiic lake bed. When they commenced to 


dredge they came upon a (juantity of spiles, 
and ivory and stone and bronze tools. Investi- 
gations proved that above this lake and, indeed, 
above others in Switzerland had once risen 
the homes of a people who lived in dwellings 
built high above the water on spiles or logs 
driven into the bed of the lake. One lake hav- 
ing been drained, two settlements were found in 
it. one at each end. The part of the eastern 
settlement which used to stand above the water 
had been destroyed by fire, and the charred 
remains could still be seen. Nobody had ever 
dreamed of the existence of such peoples. 
They are now known as the " Lake Dwellers." 

From the tools that are found in these lake- 
dwellings, in the caves, and in peat beds, we 
suppose that there were three distinct periods 
in the life of mankind : First came the Stone 
Age, in which tools and weapons were made 
of stone; second, the Bronze Age, in which 
they were of bronze; and third, the Iron Age, 
in which iron implements appear. 

We must remember that when the first men 
lived they had no tools to w-ork with, nor 
weapons with which to battle against wild 
beasts. When thrown upon their own re- 
sources to defend themselves, they probably 
threw stones. I think a small boy's first in- 
stinct in fighting is to throw things. They 
soon found that sharp stones were most effec- 
tive, so they began to rub them together to 
sharpen them. They next put pointed stones 
in the ends of sticks and made spears. To 
cut up the flesh of animals, they made stone 
knives. They discovered the use of the bow 
and arrow, for some of the sharpened stones 
that are found must certainly have been arrow- 
heads. They made hammers, and axes, and 
chisels of stone. All these were chipped so 
as to give them a cutting edge. They made 
great stone mortars and pestles for grinding 
com. At first there was little ornament, but 
toward the last of the Stone Age the knives 
had carved bone handles, and even necklaces 
are found of roughly carved amber beads. 

They had no combs nor pins nor needles 
nor thread in the earliest times. But they soon 
found out that they could fasten things together 
with the fibers of plants, or with thongs made 
from the skins of animals. They made imple- 



ments of horn which served for needles. They 
early discovered the use of fire. Maybe men 
first got fire from a volcano, or they may have 
dropped or struck one piece of flint on another 
and have seen the spark. It may be that it set 
something on fire and they felt the effect — the 

An accidental fall of some meat into the fire 
may have taught them how to cook. Their 
first canoes were made of single trees, hollowed 
by their stone hatchets aided by fire. Among 
the remains of the Stone Age, potter)' of ele- 
gant design is sometimes found. It is probable 
that they first used vessels of unbaked clay, but 
they must soon have discovered how fire made 
them hard. 

\\'hen man reached the Bronze Age he 
knew a little more. His stone tools had en- 
abled him to discover metals, for stone hatchets 
have been found in the copper-mines of Lake 
Superior. He knew how to work metals. He 
mixed his copper with tin and made bronze. 
Then all sorts of things were of bronze and elab- 
orately ornamented. He made bronze knives 
with handles carved with human figures. Drink- 
ing cups and vessels for water have been found 
elegantly decorated. The Lake Dwellers of 
Switzerland lived during the Bronze Age, for a 
great many bronze implements have been found 
near their settlements. The American Indians 
had just reached this age when they were first 
found by Europeans; and the Aztecs and Peru- 
vians, with all their superior civilization, had 
never gone beyond it. 

The Iron Age was an age of higher civiliza- 
tion, and merges into the age in which we live. 
When men commenced to work in iron, every 
experiment they tried added to its value; and as 
their knowledge of the metal and its uses in- 
creased, they advanced in civilization. Warlike 
as they were, they made knives, axes, helmets, 
and coats-of-mail. But at the same time they 
made the tools for the field and the utensils for 
home use — the gentler implements that were to 
triumijh in the end. They put the true precious 
metal, iron, daily to new uses, and probably 
man has not yet found out all the ways in 
which it can be used. 

Now you may think of asking the question, 
" Is the world finished ? " If you consider a 


moment, I think you will know it is not. The 
heated interior once in a while bursts out, as 
we see in the eruption of volcanoes, and de- 
stroys whole cities. Sometimes the crust cracks 
or moves, and an earthquake is felt. Glaciers 
are still at work in high mountain valleys, and 
icebergs still drift toward the south to build up 
the bottom of the sea with the sand and dirt 
they have carried from the north. The little 
coral animals are yet busily building. The 
sea waves are eating away the shore and de- 
positing the sand elsewhere. The eastern coast 
of England and the shores of the German 
Ocean are wearing away, and the ravages of 
the sea are plainly marked at different places 
along our own Atlantic coast. Rivers are 
carrying down immense quantities of earth, 


and building new land at their mouths. The 
Mississippi alone carries down two billions of 
tons of earth every year, and has really built 
the whole of the lower part of Louisiana. The 
precipice over which the Niagara River flows 
is wearing out at its edge so rapidly that the 
falls are moving back at the rate of from one 
foot to three feet a year. The forces that 
moulded the surface of the earth are apparently 
at work to-day. 

But it seems as if man was really the end of 
all creation, " the keystone of a grand arch." 
Of all the splendid animals of the earth — the 
armored fishes, the gigantic reptiles, the giant 
mammals — man was the only one declared to 
be endowed with an immortal soul, and made 
in God's own image and likeness. 

GtoinGt to post hek letter 

By Walter Storrs Bigelow. 

III. AN ACROBATIC FAILURE. several times, and when Lou's story was fin- 
ished I had a new feat to execute for my own 

One afternoon Lou Preston was in the mid- glory and the delectation of my friends. 

die of a story when we reached the swimming- "Look here, boys!" I cried, "look here, 

hole. He was always telling stories in the slow, Charlie ! look here ! Aw ! wait a minute, and 

drawling tone natural to him, and as the boys watch me." I got their attention at last, and 

listened eagerly, you may be sure they were braced myself for a triumphant exhibition of my 

interested. Boys are no flatterers in word or great act. 

deed, and if they pay attention it is certain that I have described the swimming-hole as a 

your story is liked. place at one side of the stream, worn deep by 

What he was telling that day was a little the current. Above and below, and at the 

above me, as we say, and while the older boys further side, the water was shallow. The near 

delayed to hear the last of it, I got ready, wet side of this hole was peqiendicular, and the 

my head first, " to prevent a rush of blood," ac- hole was said to be twenty feet deep. This was 

cording to tradition, and then jum])ed in. just the ])lace to dive. 

As I was unnoticed, I took the chance to That day, as the stream was high, its rippling 

learn to dive backward. This I did successfully surface overflowed the bank, the top of which 


formed a ledge several inches wide, under 
water, before the true rim of the hole was 

In my successful attempts to dive backward, 
I had stood on this ledge with my feet under 
water and my heels at the rim of the hole, and 
turned a back somersault. But now, having 
drawn all eyes to me, in my haste to act be- 
fore their notice was distracted, and in the 
flurry of a pubHc performance, I set my heels 
at the margin of the overflowing water, my 
feet being on dry land, and forgot the ledge 
hidden by the water between me and the rim 
of the hole. 

Over I went, and down I came, head first, 
on the ledge. I heard my neck-bones crunch 
under the weight of my body, and I flopped 
over sidewse, limp and for a moment help- 
less, into the stream. 

As I rose, and the water gushed out of my 
ears, I heard from the bank a shout of wild 
laughter by the spectators of my great diving 
feat. The boys said afterward that had they 
known my neck was broken they could not 
have helped laughing. As they did not know 
it was not broken, and had every reason to think 
it was, I believed them. 

I had enough sense left to strike out feebly 
for the other shore. My neck was bent over 
to one side, and I could not straighten it. I 
swam till my hands touched the gravel bottom, 
and, dragging myself into three inches of water, 
lay like a piece of driftwood on the beach. 

My strength began to return after a little ; 
and, as the other boys kept up their laughter, 
my recovery was hastened by indignation. 

After that, when I dived, it was in the good, 
old-fashioned way, face foremost. 



" He 's not the Principal of the school, and 
he need n't act as if he were," said Will Per- 
kins. " He 's just hired to teach the Inter- 
mediate. I 'm not afraid of him, and he can't 
lord it over me, either." 

" What can you do ? You could n't help his 
punishing you yesterday." 

" I can't do anything alone, I suppose. But 
we can organize an insurrection." 

" Whew ! I had n't thought of that." 

Frank's mouth and eyes were distended. 
\Viirs suggestion brought with it so many 
others that they could not get in through his 
ears, which were always wide open. As usual, 
the ideas came to Frank from outside. 

The September term had just opened, and 
the boys had come down to the swimming- 
hole after the second day's session. 

Mr. King taught in the Intermediate depart- 
ment. This was his second term, and it had 
begun badly. He was not mean, but was 
quick-tempered, and the boys were naturally 
prejudiced against any one set over them by 
the principal. 

The swimming-hole was so temptingly near, 
that on the first day of school several of the boys 
had gone swimming at recess, in spite of the 
rule against it. Some one (I rather think it 
was Tommy Toles, the trick was so like him) 
had tied one of Will's shirt-sleeves, and then 
dipped it in the water and pulled the knot 
tight. Will was made late in consequence, 
which directed suspicion to him ; and his damp 
hair and very clean hands were such strong 
evidences of guilt that Mr. King gave him the 
first whipping of the season, and made it 

The boys were indignant, and when Will 
struck the spark they took fire like a bundle of 
fagots. French republicans were never more 
quickly aroused to revolution. 

The boys all came out of the water, hurried 
into their clothes, and held a conclave on the 
bank near the big tree. They were to fight 
" for liberty or death," as Will solemnly de- 

" Let 's go out on a strike," said Ed Bristol. 
" .\x a given signal (you know they always act 
at a given signal), we '11 all take our books and 
go home." 

But this was too tame for the more reckless 
conspirators, some of whom proposed such dire 
vengeance as made the rest fairly shudder. 

At last what was considered a middle course 
was determined on, as laid down by Will Per- 
kins : 

'• One of us must do something to make Mr. 
King call him out on the floor, and instead of 
obeying he must lead the way and the rest must 



follow, and we '11 soon see if he can do anything 
with all of us against him." 

" But who '11 be the leader ? " 

" I 'd just as lief; but that ought to be set- 
tled by lot. We '11 draw cuts, and whoever 
gets the marked one shall be the leader. Be- 
fore we begin we must each take a solemn 
vow on a jack-knife (I 've got one that will 
do) to abide by the lot, and be the leader if it 
falls to him, or to follow the one who is." 

So Will administered the "oath of allegiance" 
on the blade of his jackknife ; tore a leaf from 
'• Mensuration," out of his Practical Arithmetic 
— for what boy of thirteen expects ever to 
study the last part of his arithmetic! — and 
then cut the leaf into narrow shps and marked 
a black cross on one of them. The lots were 
drawn in silence, and the choice fell on Frank 

Now, Frank was never a very brave boy, and 
what courage he had, vanished the instant he 
saw that black cross on the slip of paper he 
drew from Will's hat. But he was in for it now, 
and must bear up or be " forever branded as a 
coward," in the terms of the knife-blade vow. 

Next day, when school opened, the boys 
were all rather quieter than usual, and Frank 
was so pale that his freckles showed round and 
distinct all over his face. 

At recess. Will, who had been watching the 
chosen leader, said to him : 

" Frank, 1 don't think you can stand up to 
the teacher when the time comes." 

" Oh, yes, I can." But Frank's lips were 
dry, and his voice was faint. 

" I don't believe it. Suppose you let me be 
the leader." Will was yet smarting in spirit 
from his whipping, and felt valorous and re- 

" Well, of course, if you want to very much, 
I '11 let you," answered Frank, trying not to 
look relieved. 

Will called the boys together and announced 
that he would give the signal. 

" When I say, ' Come on 1 ' you follow me." 

" All right," said the boys. 

Soon after recess, Will whispered openly to 
Ed Bristol, behind him. 

"Will I'erkins, come forward!" said Mr. 

" I won't ! " 

Will felt like a fighting-cock, and his voice 
was sharp and clear. 

" What ! " roared Mr. King, as he rose sud- 
denly and stepped forward. His eyes shot fire. 
He seemed to have grown two feet taller, and 
towered like a giant approaching Tom Thumb. 
But Will looked him boldly in the face. 

" I won't ! " he repeated ; and, throwing off his 
coat, he rolled up his shirt-sleeves and started to 
meet the enemy with a yell : " Come on, boys ! " 

Not a boy moved. 

The sight of Mr. King's terrible face had 
been too much for them. Will was in, but 
none of the rest dared follow. He glanced 
about at them. Every eye was glued to a 
book. The horror of his situation seized him 
as Mr. King, instead of the boys, " came on," 
ferule in hand. 

Will turned and fled, followed by the angry 
teacher. Round and round the room he ran, 
over desks and benches, dodging down the 
aisles, and throwing behind him to impede his 
pursuer tables, chairs, books, whatever he could 
get hold of in his mad haste. The door was 
shut, and he knew it opened hard. There was 
one window-sash down from the top. If he 
could only gain time to reach the sill before 
he was caught. Will thought he might vault 
to freedom. 

He heard a fall, looked hack without stop- 
ping, and saw that Mr. King had stumbled 
over a stool he had just thrown between them. 
The open window was before him. With the 
agility of fear he sprang to the sill, fell rather 
than jumped over the lowered sash, and landed 
on his back in the gravel path outside. He 
had escaped ! 

Next day, the boy's mother came « ith him 
to school in the middle of the morning session. 
As they walked up the aisle. Will looked about 
him on his faithless allies, who could not meet 
his reproachful gaze. 

He and his mother sat on the front bench 
while Mr. King held a long and low- voiced 
conversation with them, watched with eager 
curiosity by the other boys. A reconciliation 
was eftected at last. Will went to his seat, and 
his mother went home. 

The Revolution was over. 

~:jfr-^T^ a,^^ ,a~-l-A^i^ 



U"!p.,v '- 



By Mary Shears Roberts. ' ' - 

first saw the light had been leveled to the 

Just outside the little town of Fort de France, ground. The destruction of that house was 

stretching down from the quaint, narrow Rue caused by one of the awful hurricanes which 

Victor Hugo to the purple-blue waters of the sometimes come to scathe the beauty of the 

bay, lies a spacious grass-grown square set round Antilles. 

with spreading tamarind-trees, and bathed all This great tempest is still spoken of with 

day in the glorious sunshine of the tropics. This bated breath in Martinique, for tradition is very 

square — the Savane, it is called — is the pride vivid in those remote, sleepy islands. It oc- 

of Fort de France, just as Fort de France itself 
is the pride of Martinique, and as Martinique, in 
turn, is the pride of those lovely islands which 
are strung, like a zone of jewels, across the 
Caribbean Sea. 

St. Pierre, Martinique's other city, may be 

curred one August night, when little Josephine 
was three years old. There arose a terrible 
wind accompanied by thunder, lightning, and 
heavy rain. Louder and louder roared the 
storm, bringing on its wings terror and destruc- 
tion. Huge trees were uprooted, coffee and 

richer, busier, bigger ; but Fort de France, sugar plantations were laid waste, and earth- 
whose former name was Fort Royal, is the quakes shook the mills and houses from their 

capital, the seat of government, and, above 
all, is the site of the beautiful statue of Jose- 
phine Bonaparte. For Josephine Tascher de La 
Pagerie, wife of the great Napoleon and Em- 
press of the French, was a Martinique girl, and 

foundations. The ocean sent in a mighty wave, 
wrecking the vessels lying in the harbors, and, 
amid the howHng of the storm and the shrieking 
of the aftrighted negroes, the dwelling of the La 
Pagerie family was razed to the ground. Dur- 

her memory is still cherished by the Creoles of ing the four hours that the storm raged, several 

her native island. Across the deep but narrow hundred people lost their lives, but Josephine 

bay they still point out her home near the little and her relatives found refuge in one of her 

hamlet of Trois Islets ; though, to tell the truth, father's sugar-mills which was strong enough to 

the ruins of the sugar-mill that are shown to the escape the ravages of the storm. The stout old 

visitor as the birthplace of Josephine have no walls are still standing, and near by, beneath 

claim to that honor. The La Pagerie family, huge cocoa-palms and mango-trees, trickles a 

little Josephine included, certainly lived there tiny stream where Josephine, little " Fifine," was 

for a time, but that was after the more pre- wont to paddle with her bare feet. A small pool 

tentious mansion in which the future Empress formed by a hollow in the rock is calleil to this 



day the " liatli of llie lunpress," and Ihc cluircli 
in which she was baptized still points its small 
spire toward the beautiful Southern Cross. In- 
side the building on one side of the chancel is a 
mural tablet to Josephine's mother, while the 
other side is adorned by a picture given by the 
great Napoleon. 

A bay divides Trois Islets from the town of 
Fort de P'rance, and we can fancy the Httle 
Creole maiden crossing the deep water on her 
way to the convent school in the larger town. 
Here she learned the accomplishments that she 
afterward brought to grace the palaces of the 
Luxembourg and Tuileries. From the sugar- 
mill of a West Indian plantation to the throne 
of France is a strange transition, yet Josephine 
seems to have left in both her widely differing 
spheres affectionate memories that time has not 
wholly quenched. 

In Martinique the simple folk speak of her with 
reverence and tenderness to this day. In her 
childhood she was called by her father's slaves 
" the pretty Creole," and on her birthdays it is 
said that M. de La Pagerie allowed each of his 
negroes a day of rest, and provided an enter- 
tainment for them while " Fifine " distributed 
alms to the sick and poor. 

On going to make her first visit to France, 
at the age of fifteen, the beautiful eyes of Jose- 
jjhine were dimmed with tears as Trois Islets 
faded from her view. Even after she became 
the wife of M. de Beauharnais her thoughts 
were ever turning back to her well-beloved 

When troubles assailed her, she sought again 
her island home, bringing her litde daughter 
Hortense. While in Martinique she resumed 
her Creole dress ; and when brighter days arrived 
and she returned to France, the pleasantest sur- 
prise she could arrange for M. de Beauharnais 
was to present to him the small Hortense clad 
in full Martinique costume. 

In after years when, as wife of the great 
Napoleon, she had riches and power at com- 
mand, she filled her beautiful gardens at Mal- 
maison with choice exotics from her native isle. 
One of these, a most rare and beautiful plant, 
the Ama>y///s i^igan/ea, the only one in France, 
was visited and admired by throngs of people. 

And Fort de France cherishes the statue of 

tiic beautiful I'jnjjress. There it stands in the 
center of the broad Savane, girt by nine tower- 
ing palm-trees whose leafy tops bow with a 
stately motion above her beautiful head and 
rustle mournfully as the breeze sighs through 
them. It seems as if they lamented the sad 
fate of the fair woman whose pensive marble 
features seem to gaze pensively across the sunny 
vista of the Savane and the sparkling waters of 
the ocean — toward the distant shores of France. 

Such was the aspect of the place a year ago ; 
such is still the aspect of the Savane, which has 
guarded safely the nine palm-trees and the 
statue they encircle ; but the town is changed. 
Fort de France, that had withstood the ravages 
of hurricanes and cyclones, and had risen 
proudly from the terrible earthquake of 1838, 
was destined only a year ago to meet with a 
calamity that recalls the great Chicago fire. It 
happened on the morning of the 22d of June, 
1890, within a day of one hundred and twenty- 
seven years after Josephine's birth. 

In all hot countries the people rise early in 
order to transact their business in the cool of 
the day, and if the old rhyme be true, then 
the Martinique folk should be the healthiest, 
wealthiest, and wisest of our race. They go to 
sleep with the chickens and are up before any 
well-regulated lark at the north would think 
of beginning his morning carols. 

I have frequently opened my lazy eyes long 
before sunrise to find the hotel Ixmne wishing 
me "Bon jour .'" and to see her arranging my 
coffee and rolls as if it were the most natural 
thing in the world to prepare breakfast before 

Now, this particular 22d of June fell on a 
Sunday, and that Sunday morning an old 
woman named Adeline Marguerite Hercule, 
who kept a stand in the market-place, arose 
even earlier than usual. 

The market-places in the French West Indies 
are o])en on Sundays as well as on week tlays, 
and Adeline was obliged to get up betimes to 
attend to her religious duties before beginning 
her fruit and manioc selling at her stall. 

She occupied a single room of a wooden 
house in a thickly setded part of the town. 
Soon after five in the morning, she started for 
the cathedral, first telling her little nephew 




Omer not to leave the room. She returned in 
about an hour and found the disobedient child 
in the street below playing with two other small 
boys. She scolded the little fellow, slapped him 
once or twice, and then made the coffee for him 
and for her son, whose name was Popo. 

Popo .soon went out and Adeline set about 
prei)aring the regular breakfast, which is usually 
eaten at about eleven. This breakfast was to be 
of salt fish and bananas. A strange mixture, — 

and then Master Omer had a long day before 

'I'his little monkey (if you ever saw a small 
Martinique gamin you would think the name 
excusable) did not enjoy solitude. He called 
in his little playfellows to play with him at 
Colin-maillard, the French version of our game 
" blindman's-buff." The small Omer while 
blindfolded, ran against the brazier, poised on 
its wooden stand. Over went box, brazier, 


but the natives cook bananas or plantains in all 
sorts of ways in these queer islands. Their 
range or cooking apparatus consists of a small 
furnace or charcoal brazier. With a curious 
fan made for the purpose Adeline fanned the 
coals till they began to glow ; then on a wooden 
box she placed the stove, and again on top of 
this she set the kettle containing the fish and 
fruit. Leaving the hotchpotch to cook itself, 
she departed to attend to business at the market. 

and kettle, and the glowing charcoal fell into 
a wooden tray containing some thin cotton 

The urchins were frightened and fled with- 
out telling of the mischief they had done. 

" Behold how great a matter a little fire 
kindleth ! " A high wind was blowing and 
wafted flames and embers over the narrow 
streets of the town. Most of the buildings \vere 
of wood, small and very old, and they burned 



like so much tinder. The firemen were called 
out, but water was scarce, and with their primi- 
tive appliances they were helpless in the face of 
such a catastrophe. The hospital was soon in 
a blaze, and then flames burst forth in the 
beautiful new market. The " fire fiend " ruled 
that day, and stayed not his work of destruc- 
tion till more than half of the pretty little city 
lay in ashes. 

When night descended on the desolated town 
five thousand people were without shelter or 
home. Little remained save a few houses at the 
water's edge, the ancient fort with France's tri- 
color floating above its bastions, and the still 
older Savane, set with a line of scorched and 
blasted tamarind-trees. Under the branches the 
homeless citizens encamped that night, and drew 
comfort from the thought that, though many had 
lost their all, yet few lives had been sacrificed, 
and the glorious statue of Josephine, the pride 
of Martinique, still reared its stately head un- 
harmed amid its grove of gigantic palms. 

Such was the beginning and end of the great 
fire of Fort de France, the severest visitation 
that has ever befallen the peaceful and unevent- 
ful history of the Caribbees. 

Fort de France has already begun to rise from 
its ashes, not with the quick rebound of a 
Yankee city, where the cheerful ring of the 
mason's trowel may be heard among the still 
smoldering ruins, but with a placid, gradual 
resurrection befitting the life of the lazy trop- 
ics. Fair Josephine's statue may be said to 
have borne a charmed life, for the great fire of 
1890 is by no means the only danger it has 

Twenty years ago, when the uprising of the 
Communalists had been sternly suppressed in 
Paris, and many of the ringleaders had paid the 
penalty of their misdeeds, with backs against 
a dead wall and eyes confronting a file of 
grim soldiery, a few members of the defeated 
Commune escaped and fled wherever chance 
and opportunity led them . Some reached Mar- i 

,-• 1 .1 ^■^l.'Ji- NEAR VIEW OF THE STATUE.* 

tmique, and were not slow to air their doctrines 

among the simple islanders. government they had left behind them. They 

To these refugees the statue of Josephine thought it would be a fine thing to deface this 

seemed a lasting reproach — an ever present work of art as they had effaced so many in 

evidence of the royalty they loathed and of the Paris ; and dynamite was actually procured and 

* From a photograph by Dr. William F. HiUchinson. 


disposed 10 the best advantage round the base But, apart from its history and its associations, 
of the statue. But the proceedings of these old- the statue of Josephine is well worth attention 
country roughs had been noticed by some of the as a work of art. The fair Empress stands be- 
neath her sentinel palms a marble vision of 
loveliness. Her sweet face is turned toward 
her birthplace, her arms are bare, and her left 
hand rests on a medallion portrait of the great 

The inscription states that this statue was 
r.iised by the inhabitants of Martiniijue to the 
memory of the Empress Josephine, born in the 

Not far from the beautiful monument there 
stood, a year ago, the building where Josephine 
went to school, but that, like the good nuns who 

women of Fort de France — broad-shouldered 
charcoal girls, strong and active porteuses, who 
had no idea of allowing indignity to be offered 
to " La Jolie Creole." When the destroyers 
assembled to wreak their spite on the marble, 
they found themselves seized by a score of 
stalwart women. The ruffians were secured, 
tied hand and foot, and, since they were caught 
in the act, no time was wasted on a trial. They 
were simply cast, bound as they were, into the 
bay. The waves over which Josephine's boat 
used to speed so lightly a hundred years ago 
now roll above the bodies of the vandals who 
would have insulted her memory. Communism 
found no congenial soil on Martinique, and the 
popular verdict was, " Serve them right." It all 
happened twenty years ago, and you will hear 
nothing of the tragedy to-day unless you inquire 
closely into the history of Josephine's statue. 

taught her, has become but a memory, and only 
the statue, the nine waving palms, and the 
short-waisted gowns of a few gaily dressed 
women are left to remind us of the lovely 
Creole who passed from the seclusion of a little 
island to share the throne of the conqueror of 


Bv Alice P. Carter. 

To the Boston Museum, a long time ago, 

A little boy, impish as Puck, 

Went one day with his nurse, who resembled 

a hen 
In charge of a wayward young duck. 

For our bright little hero was just at the age 
When boys think it manly and " fine " 
To tease and to worry a nurse, without end : 
His age was, I think, about nine. 

Our hero had had, in that small space of time, 
The greatest surprise in his life : 

He'd been beaten, and pounded, and pum- 

meled, and thrashed. 
And sent with a kick through the door, 
\\'hich was instantly slammed, while he fell on 

his back. 
And lay in a heap on the floor. 

Of course he was hurt, but he scarcely could 

His bumps or his bruises at all. 
Nor hear Biddy's scolding. His utter surprise 

The Museum was reached, and our naughty 

young Dan 
Was determined to have his own way, 
And at last he peeped into a small private ^y^g gQ g^gat that all else appeared small. 

In spite of all Biddy could say. jhat a boy of his age should have mastered 

him thus, 
There a big-headed, ugly, and cross-lookmg ^^j^^^^^ ^j^^^. ^^^^ ^^^^^^ j^ offend, 

^°y' So amazed and perplexed him, he scarcely 
Who appeared to be just of Dan's age, ^^jj. -^^ 

Cried out, " You young rascal, get out of this ^^^ j^^ understood all in the end. 

room ! " 

And stamped on the floor in a rage. 

Now Dan was a fighter. At school he was 

As a boy whom no other could beat. 
So now he said grimly, " Don't try to scare 

By stamping your great ugly feet." 

' Be off! " cried the other, '■ or I '11 turn you 

out I " 
Said Dan, " I 'd just like you to try ! " 
Then he took a step forward, and doubled his 

.■\nd measured the boy with his eye. 

Two minutes had passed. They were not 

very long, 
But they still were enough for the strife. 

For, arrived at his home, Biddy made her 

complaint : 
' Indade and indade, ma'am, it 's so; 
He entered a room, ma'am, and fought with 

the dwarf, — 
The dwarf they exhibit, you know." 

So the mystery was solved : he had fought a 

large dwarf, 
A dwarf with the strength of a man, 
\\'hich, especially when it was used in a rage, 
Of course was too much for poor Dan. 

He was stiff for a week, and as sore as could 

Perhaps you will say, '• Serve him right '. " 
But he heartily laughed when he told me the 

Some thirty years after the fight. 


By Maurick Thompson. 

Flutter by, 
Over the clover. 
Under the sky. 
Sail and falter and fail, 

And cling to the fragrant spray ; 
Shift and shirk, 
No weather for work 
Falls on a summer day. 

Tumble free 
Into the bloom of the tulip-tree ; 
Cease your bustle and boom. 
Swing on a stamen and sing, 
Or clutch a flagon frail and fine, 
And drowsily drink the wine, 
And rest your rumbling wing. 


Glow like a spark 
That will set the fields afire ; 

Tenderly whistle 

On top of a thistle 
A " turilee " to your mate up higher 
In a dusky locust-tree. 

There ! There ! 

Away goes care, 
And a dream comes over me. 

A boy tired out with play, 

On a summer holiday, 

In the grass so cool and deep 

Let me lie and sleep, 
While the butterfly goes fluttering over, 
Between blue sky and purple clover, 

And the bumblebee bumbles 

.A.nd whirls and tumbles. 
Where the meadowlark's nest 
And her golden breast 

Have clover 

All over 

For cover. 


-■ ^^ 



'^. J 


.<^ ^^' 

(V V. ■>ii(/ « 

L/ v^ 

TS^' ' ^ ^ r< 


>^^\ ■ 

Bv Lillian L. Price. 

I MIND how the roses smelled, and the 
lilies — mother's garden was full of flowers — 
and I mind how proud I was of the new house 
of barked logs ; 't was the only one in Gwynedd, 
and had its staircase outside, very stately. I 
mind all this, Gwen, and more, when thee gives 
me that sprig of lemon-verbena, my little grand- 
daughter. Thee must have heard the story of 
Letty Penn's visit ? Thee has n't ? Then sit 
thee down, my love. I like to tell it. 

For all that I was Quaker-bred, the Evans 
blood still had its sway in me. In Wales, thee 
knows, the Evanses were not of the Friends. 
And I had soft curls, and pretty dimples, and 
dancing came readily to my young feet. But 
in the old days at Gwynedd — no, no! I could 
not dance. 

The Indians were very friendly, and across 
the Wissahickon dwelt a settlement of them. 
A young squaw that came sometimes to our 
house made friends with me. I remember her 
yet. She was a lithe, tall girl, graceful, — and 
she — but thee must wait. I went often to her 

camp and learned besides weaving — but thee 
must wait. 

William Penn had but just finished his house 
at Pennsbury. I mind the talk of its splendor. 
'T was of fine English fashion, and had more- 
over a great hall for Indian receptions, and 
there the Lord Proprietor of our Province kept 
his state with all simplicity and dignity. You 
may well guess the flutter I was in, one October 
afternoon, when Brother Abner's long shanks 
came flying up the garden, and he fell over 
Aunt Jane's apple-bowl as he tumbled into the 

" 'T is three by the dial," gasped he, " and at 
five comes the Lord Proprietor, William Penn, 
and his daughter Letty, to pass the night with 
us. Father sends thee word to make ready." 

I mind me I was stinting on my sampler, 
and such a wry stitch as I put into the casso- 
wary's leg — alas, it cost me ten stitches to get 
it out ! 

But therewith began a preparation. My Aunt 
Jane was of the sterner sort, but my mother was 


all peace. 'T was Aunt Jane who kept my heels 
flying hither and yon, and truly I dreamed so 
long of what Letty Penn would be like, over 
the honey jar down in the cellar, that I earned 
the box o' the ear that Aunt Jane gave me. 
Though she spoke out about it afterward in 
the meeting — dear soul! — as an infirmity of 
temper. We built a great fire in the best bed- 


\\'hen I heard the hoof-beats coming down 
the road, I grew suddenly shy and climbed into 
the great blue chest and nestled down into the 
thick comforters to rouse enough courage, b\' 
judicious hiding, so that I might greet Letty 
Penn in seemly fashion. When Abner led away 
the horses I slipped down and peered through 
the great window. William Penn stood .shaking 

room, and I aired the linen for mother, all 
sweet with lemon-verbena and lavender spears. 
"'I'hee shall take Letty to sleep in thy bod," 
said mother. And straightway, as I stood before 
the fire with a fat goose-feather pillow in my 
mouth, tugging on the cover, the naughty 
thought crept into my mind which made all 
the trouble. Perchance .\unt Jane's cuft" roused 
my Welsh blood. So s/ie said, dear soul. 
Vol. XVIII.— 51. 

hands with my elders, and I mind yet his sweet, 
strong smile. He had a courtly manner, and his 
daughter lacked it not. She sat before the fire 
with riding-cloak thrown back, and a silken 
bonnet of plain fashion lying on her lap. Her 
stout little boots were thrust out toward the fire 
as if her feet were cold, and she looked up 
into Aunt Jane's face with a pretty, winsome 
smile that set my heart a-beating. I loved her 



then and was ready to tell her all my secrets 
before I had even spoken to her. 

So I entered the room and was ])resentetl to 
William Penn, who kissed me kindly on the 
forehead, and then I was led to Lctty. \\'hile 
Aunt Jane lingered near us we said but pretty 
formalities. Presently the supper called her 
away, and I, pulling a low settle closer by the 
fire, said softly, unwrapping her cloak the while, 
" Thee 's cold. Come sit on my setde in this 
warm corner. Thee 's had a long ride and I 
know how a pillion tires one. Let me rul) thy 


hands — so. Wait a bit. Does thee like cats? 
Thee can have my moppet to warm thee." 

'• Thee 's kind," said Letty Penn, hugging 
my cat. "Is thy name Gwen?" 

" Yea," I replied. " Gwen Evans. Is n't 
thee very hungry ? " And she laughed. 

" Don't thee tell any one, but I truly am," 
.she said. And we squeezed each other's hands 
when Aunt Jane set a cold on the table. 

I mind that supper, and how pretty our 
manners were, and how the boys sat in a long, 
solemn row and ate great quantities, though 
their knee-buckles knocked together in shy 
affright if ever they were addressed. 

William Penn talked sagely to my father 
of Indian treaties, and all the while, with my 
naughty poll full of its mischievous plan, I 
helped my brother Abner bountifully to cheese 
and cakes, the better to coax him later to lay a 
fire in my bed-chamber. And so he did. 

When it came time for the children's candles, 
I felt my heart grow jubilant. At last I could 
talk to Letty, free from Aunt Jane's watchful 

I mind me how quaintly sweet my room 
was, with white dimity hangings, and a little, 
dumpling feather-bed. I pulled two crickets 
up to the crackling fire and we cuddled to- 
gether upon them. " I think my father Hkes 
thine," said Letty ; '■ and thy mother is sweet." 

" Thy father is a great man," I said. '■ Does 
thee think us simple here ? " 

" Not I, truly," said Letty frankly. 

" Was thee ever," I said bending close to 
her — -'was thee ever sorry thee was bom a 
Friend ? " 

" Never. Was thee ? " 

•• Yea ! " I returned vehemently. '• I wish I 
had been bom an Indian ! Oh, 't is fine I " 

" Thee should not wish to be a heathen 
savage. Thee should be glad thee 's of the 
Lord's people," remonstrated Letty. 

" Nay, but Indian women can dance and 
roam the woods all day. I hate ugly samplers 
and stiff caps and Aunt Jane's ' Nay, nay,' if 
ever I trip it about the garden. Father's lamb- 
kins frisk, and the Lord made them, and the 
litde leaves dance." 

With that, I made a dive under my white 
foot-valance and came out tugging a battered 
bandbox. '• Thee must never tell," I said, 
tossing my cap on the bed and pulling a tall, 
hideous Indian head-dress over my curls, 
" but I am going to show thee an Indian 
dance. They say 1 am never to dance, but 
thee shall see ! " 


Off came my calfskin boots and on went a 
pair of moccasins. I wound some beads about 
my neck, I twisted a scarf about my waist, all 
the while watching Letty alertly to see if she 
admired me. A merry laughter shone in her 
eyes. Thereupon I sprang to my feet, and 
straightway began such a twisting, whirling, 
swaying, and leaping, with sidewise bounds, 
with clutchings of the air, and mad " pot- 
cheesing " of my sober gown into giddy bal- 
loonings, as might well have startled any one. 
My curls flew ; I made the motions of fling- 
ing tomahawks, — all learned with care in the 
woods of that same Indian woman, — and Letty 
looked on delighted. 

" Does thee like it ? " I gasped, falling at 
length upon my cricket, exhausted. 

" It is gayer than grandma's minuet," she 
said admiringly. " Thee might teach me a 

I tossed her the beads and tiara, and at it we 
went ; aye, so absorbed were we in the glee of it, 
that we heard no rattle of doors or casements, 
and were leaping giddily when Aunt Jane en- 
tered the room. 

Thee does n't know what a sin it was to Aunt 
Jane. Letty had been reared more leniently 
and guessed but little of the horror of my aunt 
at such an atrocity as Indian dancing. 

" Gwen Evans ! " she said, " has the Evil One 
possessed thee ? Get thee to bed." 

And I saw my cherished gear put on the fire, 
there to shrivel up in the flames, and I mind 
me how the moccasins curled and writhed and 
twisted on the glowing logs, while Letty and I 

watched them with the frightened tears stream- 
ing dow n our faces. I mind how Aunt Jane lit 
a tall candle and read a long chapter to us, we 
squeezing each other's hands under the cover- 
lids and sobbing softly. I liked not her good- 
night kiss, but lay sobbing after she went, with 
Letty whispering such consolation as she could, 
till the dear mother came in. My dear mother ! 
'T was she who hugged us both, and kissed us 
both, and laughed and cried over us, but we 
slept comforted. 

And I mind me next morning after breakfast 
how we stood at William Penn's knee and con- 
fessed our wicked dance, and how benignly he 
forgave us; though I, glancing comerwise at 
him, even in my humiliation, thought I saw a 
smile curving about his mouth. They left us in 
the afternoon. Letty and I clung to each other 
on the horseblock. My eyes this time were dim 
with hearty tears. 

•'Thee will always keep my sweet-grass ring? " 
I murmured. 

" Always," she said. " ,-Vnd thee will keep 
my camelian heart ? " 

" Verily I will," I said, " all my life." And so 
I watched her gray cloak vanish up the road 
between the gold and scarlet maple-trees. 

This is the camelian heart, in this little case, 
Gwen. And the roses and lihes of mother's 
garden ? Oh, it was years later that I culled 
them, a great nosegay of them, to take to Letty 
Penn's wedding. But I think of them always 
when I think of her, and seem to see the old 
home again, love, when thee brings me this 
sprig of verbena. 


By R. K. Munkittrick. 

Happy spirit, free from care, 
Lightly drifting here and there. 
Through the forest murmurously, 
Waking music in the tree ; 

Toying with the dewy blooms 

Where the brown bee drones and booms, 

Stealing odors from the red 

Roses in the garden bed ; 

Rifling purple flower-bells, 
Loitering in rosy shells, 

Kissing into pearls the sea 
'Neath the white moon, daintily : 

Bearing o'er the ripples sweet 
Of the poppied, olive wheat. 
Butterflies down hazy dales — 
Golden ships with golden sails ! 

And when all is calm and still 
In the meadow, on the hill. 
Then we know you are asleep 
In some flower cool and deep. 


By Anna M. Pratt. 

Rose, I will guess your secret — 

Your blushes shall speak — 
Did )ou leave some velvety petals 

On a wee, warm cheek ? 

Did you float on a morning zephyr. 
Blowing soft from the south, 

To breathe your balmy fragrance 
On a dewy sweet mouth ? 

Does the dent of a tiny dimple 

Mark a mute caress, 
Where you tenderly touched the baby. 

Her lips to press ? 

Ah ! Rose, with yourbeauty and fragrance, 

Vou must yet have a care. 
For our darling is fairer and sweeter. 

Were you never so fair ! 


By Benjamin Webster. 

T is said that William Hogarth, the famous 
EngHsh artist, once made a wager that he 
could draw with three lines a soldier go- 
ing into a tavern followed by his pet dog. 
He won, whether fairly or not the reader 
must decide, by the cle\er drawing that 
makes here the initial I. 

Such penciled jokes, while not very rare, 
are always amusing. Two of the most 
solemn and dignified characters in history 
serve as the subjects of the following desigms, 
which an artist made one day for me without 
claiming them as original. The first is, of 
course, the " Father of His Country." 

A very little practice 
will make one a skilled 

Then he drew one continuous line beginning 
at the htde hook on the shoulder, and a few 
short ones, and there was the great Prussian as 
perfecdy depicted as 
Carlyle could have 
done it. One might 
almost read his char- 
acter from this speak- 
ing likeness. 

" The same great 
artist could also draw 
Napoleon the First, 
and has depicted him 
at the two most mo- 
mentous epochs of 
his career," my friend 
historical painter, so far continued, taking another piece of paper. "First 
as this sketch can bring we see him after Austerlitz ; while the second pic- 
about that result. The ture shows very clearly that his sentiments were 
quite different after he had met the Iron Duke 

second is Dante, the 
laurel-crowned author of 

the " Inferno," and 
even this striking like- 
ness need present no 
insuperable difficulty 
to the serious Stu- 
dent of Art. 

I showed these two 
masterpieces to an- 
other artist, who, in 
return for the light 
they threw upon the 
practice of his pro- 

at Waterloo." 

Then descend- 
ing from the 
heights of history 
to pastoral life, he 
asked me whether 
three pigs. Not 
knowing which 
pigs he meant, I 

said frankly that I had n't. Whereupon he 

drew three oblong rectangles upon the paper. 

" This," said he, adding a few forcible strokes 

fession, willingly proceeded to exhibit to me to the first, " is the happy and aspiring pig." 

some that he had picked up during a diligent 
study of the old and young masters of Europe. 
" Frederick the Great was no doubt a re- 
markable man," said he, " but a few lines \\ ill 
present his most striking features very forcibly, 
as has been shown by a distinguished German 


Then passing to the 
next, he made a 
kw similar lines and 
said, " While this, as 
you see, is the un- 
happy and despond- 
ing pig." In old 





times, he told me, 
that was all the 

pigs there were. But some 

modern genius saw that the 

field \vas still open to another 

pig, and added " the pig who is 

wrapped up in himself." These 

three recalled another, and seizing 

a third scrap of paper he drew in 

an unbroken line a pig whose outlines suggested 

that he came from the land of Dikes and Ditches. 

" 'I'here is an- 
other historical 
portrait," added 
the artist, "which 
is less simple than 
those that I have 
shown, but is per- 
haps well adapted 
to students who 
have advanced further in their profession." 
Then as a final triumph he drew a pumpkin, 
added a turnip and three carrots, and de- 
clared the result a fair hkeness of the Em- 
peror, Napoleon III., "The Nephew of his 



By Oliver Hsrford. 

There v/as once a ciraffs who 

said, "V/hat 
Do I want with my tea strong or 
For my throat 's such a length 
The tea loses its strength 
And is coid ere it reaches the 
spot." • 



{For Young Musicians.) 
\ \ was such a strange little boy, that until he reached the -^1--, 

of one 

" his friends all feared that he never would '*- out 

man. His head 

was full of ^ I* and among them was one very <£l^=l=»= one, viz : a determination not 

to learn his ^k=J -»- m ' . He would run away to catch ^-f^-^-f ^- i" the brook, and pre 
tend to be 

=1 - when they called him to his lessons. His father said, " ffiTtft:; is 

either ^ - f ^ or '^ h m ; I have little hope of him, as he shows no H- ffi ^- of intelligence." 

One day Farmer ; called his son and said : " I want a fEi^^ of com from the mill. 

Here is a ]" to the miller; when he learns the j^j of it he will give you the corn with- 

^ny ffi3?5=>^ ' ^s ^ cannot trust you with the money. Put the corn in this '&^ ~2~J ^ » 

it with this 

and ■^ it tight." 

set off, but when he had gone about an J" of the way he saw old -fy -^-^ P^ , a super- 


annuated ^-»-J- »- horse, grazing in a field near by. The boy climbed the 

/k \= ^- and began to /^ i ' — ' f- old ( ^ " J ^j "^ with apples ; then mounting on his back 

he began to beat him with a ^ - which he carried in his hand. The horse started on 

a TO-;i,^ £^-^^ "--3^ across the field, and the boy was several times within an 

of falling off, when suddenly ^-^r-j j«^ pitched him over his head into a ^ ^ ^i- nest. 

rapidly. His cries 

-4-_ — l=j . who w as 

A ffil^ stung him in the ^j^ ^ ^ =^-^ which began to 
rose in a wailing - 

rn until they reached their loudest ^'. Farmer X. J -J- 
plowing in a neighboring field, calling " ^ ^ " to his o.xen, and trying to make them take 


an iicifl. j^ait in phux' of tlicir usual /<?//. movement, now came to the | ^ and said 

to the boy : " 1 thought you were ^g^ p^g^ until 1 heard you scream. What are you 
doing in this ' ? " 

" Father 3^ : j-j-g :z=jirl me go to the mill," he replied, " but I wanted to 

away, cross the Tf r — ' 

lofty mountains, and fe my fortune ! " 
You must be oft' your ^ ," replied the farmer. " Go home and let your mother put 

you to 


The boy's cries having passed through all stages of =- and /., now reached their ftij Jine. 

out, but I /. S~ and Z some- 

" Yes, I will,'' replied ffiSEc^. " I am 
what at the jjrospect of my punishment. Perhaps father will T * me up and A^_ j jiz2 ' ^^^' 
but the result of this adventure will last the S?" - of my life; it will never ^jtz*^?^^- from 
my memory, and I am sure I shall not wish to ]fl it." 
" That 's right, sonny ! " answered the farmer. " ffiS»5 

" , but don't ffil^r: ! " 
Louise Livingston Bradford. 


Bv H. A. OcuEN. 

' Why, hello, messmate ! " 
The old tar said 
'I'o this dear little chap so bright, 
' Is your craft a reg'lar man-o'-war ? 
Did she ever win a fight ? 

Or is she one of the navy new, 
Of steel and iron, through and 
An armored cruiser w'hite ? 

" If our country called you 
Would you go. 
As we did in sixty-one? — 
Thousands on land, thousands on sea, 
Wherever brave deeds were clone. 

In those days ships were made of wood. 
Hut we found them strong, and stanch, 
and good. 
And many a fight they won. 




■ Up there stands 

The 'Brave Old Salt,' 
Farragut ! Sailors know 
How he led his fleet to victory 
Wherever boats could go. 

Since war began 

No braver man 
Can anv nation show ! 

" And so, little lad, 

If in time to come 
You should wear the sailor's blue, 
Though Farragut 's gone and many more 
Who proved to our flag so true, 

When you 're a man 

Do the best you can. 
You may be a Farragut, too 1 " 





Hurrah for July and its glorious Fourth ! We 
keep it, we Jacks-in-thc-pulpit and boys and girls, 
because we are so glad to be in a free country. 

And now to business. What have we before us 
to-day ? Ah yes ! those two matters started at our 
April meeting,* namely : What is This ? (mean- 
ing that very queer picture I then showed you), and 
Fanny S. B.'s question. Have HorSES, Dogs, 
Cats, etc., Languages of their own? 

Well, answers to these questions have come to this 
pulpit to my perfect satisfaction. Some right, the 
dear Little Schoolma'am says, some wrong ; some 
good, some not so, but one and all showing honest 
interest and industry. So we three, the Deacon, 
the Little Schoolma'am, and your own Jack, thank 
the writers most heartily. 

Bless me ! Either St. Nicholas makes young 
folks delightfully clever or else only delightfully 
clever young folk take St. Nicholas. One or the 
other is the case, of that I am sure. 

Now you shall hear who among you all, my dear 
firework-ers, dictionary-hunters, and finger-inkers, 
sent the correct name or description of that queer 
object in the picture. It is a Mammillated Sea 
Urchin, or the variety familiarly and affectionately 
called Heteroccntrotits MaDunillatus by those frisky 

The following sent correct answers : Lyndon Despard, 
Charlie Kellogg, Gerry G. Buswell, .\lfred Bowie, "Jack 
Tar," Louis O. Tucker, Kiltie Schinidt, Eleanor M. F., 
Nellie D. Bevies, M. L. Robinson, Phyllis E. Parker, 
Joseph N. White, Mabel Gleason, Ezra L. Pound, Gertie 

Kittie Schinidt tells us that children in the South Sea 
Islands use the spines for slate-pencils. Charlie Kellogg 
says, ** They have strong teeth and can eat crabs, antl can 
climb up glass. " Frances M . agrees that it is a sea-urchin, 
but on the authority of a wise cousin says there are sea- 
anemones in the picture. Lyndon Despard bristles with 
' Sec Si. NichoLns f. 

facts : " It is smaller than the ordinary sea-urchin, with 
spines five or six inches long, each blue up to the white 
ring and then red." The classification of this patriotic 
creature, he says, is: Orier, JHe/iinoderniala ; l''aniily,£^/;- 
iiioii/c'a ; Genus (Cu/aiis), Mammillalus. Horace P. A., 
ten years old, gives the name CiJaritis Imperialis. " Jack 
Tar " declares it bears the simple name Ihtfrocentrotits 
Miintniillatits^ and comes from the Pacific Ocean ; he 
adds that a specimen is in the Academy of Natural Sci- 
ences, of Philadelphia, where he lives. Gerry G. Bus- 
well is one of five brothers who, during vacations at 
Monterey, California, " find them clinging to the rocks 
and have to pull hard to get them off. They attach them- 
selves by suckers. They are dark purple. The spines 
become pointed when they are taken out of the water. 
The mouth is in the center of the shell in the picture." 
His letter is bjright and original. 

Of those who held opinions differing from these, Nora 
M. suggests the name Actinia CrassicormtSj a sea-anem- 
one; CJertrude .\. W., a Scotch lassie, says it is a "sea- 
anemone seen through a microscope " ; H. W. M. de- 
clares it " a very fine cluster of Brazilian agates " ; Marion 
McA. and Edith M. P. think it a sea-anemone, while 
Dick and Jack, two chums living opposite one another, 
"think and are sure that it is a chrysanthemum," and Elva 
F. calls it "a flower made up of base-ball bats." Bessie 
Durham identifies it as "a passion-flower," and Charlie 
G., Jr., at the end of a good letter about " Do animals 
think?" writes: " By the way, as to that mysterious 
picture on page 483, / think it is a penwiper or some- 
thing very much like it." 

So you see the answers made it animal, mineral, 
and vegetable, but only those who took the sea- 
urchin standpoint were correct. Jack thanks you 
all for your clever letters, which came from every- 
where — Texas, Scotland, California, Staten Island, 
Minnesota, Canada, Maryland— north, south, east, 
and west. 


So many bright and interesting letters have been 
received in answer to the question asked by Fannie 
S. B. in the April number that your Jack must 
print as many as he can crowd in. 

GuFXPH, Ontario. 
Dear J.\ck : I am thirteen. It 's my opinion that 
horses, cows, dogs, and cats, etc., all have a way of mak- 
ing each other understand, and this is why : When we 
were home, I remember one day my sister Isabel and 
I were eating our lunch out in the yard at school, and 
we had such fun watching the big red ants carrying off 
some crumbs of bread we would throw near their mound. 
First one ant tried to carry a crumb, and finding he could 
not manage it, he left it and went away. In a little while 
he and one other ant came and tried it together ; then 
they stopped and got a third to come and help them, and 
the three carried the crumb to the mouth of their hill and 
all went tumbling in together, and if ants have a way of 
understanding each other, I cannot help thinking the 
domestic animals must have too. Mai'U Q . 

Dear Mr. Jack : I think cows, cats, dogs, etc., h.ave 
a language of their own. I have often seen them stand- 
ing with their heads close together, and looking as if 
they were talking on some interesting subject. 

Your faithful reader, M. Brice Hill. 

Dear Jack: I answer decidedly, animals have lan- 

The reason I have for thinking so is this : We have 
a dog (not very beautiful) named Buff. A while ago 

■ April. 1891, page 483. 




some neighbors across the street had a pointer-dog 
named Don, who was a great friend of Buff. One day 
Don was in the neighbor's yard, locked in. The fence 
was made of upright slats. Buff ran over to see him, 
but as Buff could not get in and Don could not get out, 
they could only wag their tails at each other. .Suddenly 
Buff went round to a high gate beyond the house, and 
quite a way from the low gate where they were. The high 
gate was partly open, but not wide enough for Don to 
come through. Don disappeared also. 

In a minute Don's nose appeared at the high gate, but 
no more of him. The gate did not open easily, for it 
stuck on the board walk. Buff shoved the gate and Don 
pulled with his nose. The gate yielded and opened. 
Don came out and off the friends trotted. 

Don't you think when at the low gate they must have 
conveyed the plan for opening the high gate ? Anyway, 
I think so. May H. F . 

Dear Jack-in-the-Pulpit: I think that animals 
have languages of their own, and can understand each 
other that way, because we once had a cat and five kittens. 
The kittens were rather wild. Mama was going by the 
place where they stayed. As she passed, all the kittens 
ran under the house, but the old cat went under with 
them and made a funny noise and all the kittens came 
out again and let mama pet them. I think the old cat 
told them not to be afraid to come out. 

Yours truly, Eleanor C. A . 

New York City. 
Dear Jack : In my opinion animals do have a langtiage 
of their own in the sense that they certainly have a 
method of communication. I also believe that animals 
and birds reason. Thus in the case of my little canary, 
Teddy : He will first, when the water is cold in his bath, 
dip his beak in, as if wishing to know if it would be 
conducive to his health to take a bath that morning. Then 
his head will follow, and last (if the water suits him) 
his body. Sometimes he will hover about his bath-tub 
for about five minutes before deciding. Is not that rea- 
soning? Also as to birds and animals having a method 
of communication, will not the chirp of a bird bring its 
mate to its side ? Also, will not that same chirp show the 
state of the bird's feelings, as in anger, grief, or happi- 
ness ? I could state many other instances, such as the 
bleat of the sheep bringing its kid to it, the low of the 
cow its calf, but for making my letter too long. 

Yours most truly, Charlie G , Jr. 

Dear Jack : Please give this to your chicks. I 
cut it from the Bangor Whig. Yours truly, 

B. C. 

A good cat-story, illustrating the sagacity of the felines, 
is told by an eye-witness. .\ cat saw a large rat run out 
from under a stable and seek shelter in a wood-pile. 
Tommy followed his ratship and tried to reach him, but 
could not do so. Finding that his efforts were in vain. 
Tommy scratched his head and hit upon an idea. Leav- 
ing the woodpile, he went off a short distance, informed 
another cat of what was up, and the two went back to the 
woodpile. Tommy No. I stationed No. 2 at the place 
where the rat had entered the wood-pile, while he climbed 
upon the wood and began scratching. This frightened 
the rat and out he ran into the chops of Tommy No. 2, 
who had been expecting such an occurrence. 

Grand Rapids, Michigan. 
Dear J.\CK : I think that animals do have languages. 
If there is poison around and one rat finds it out, all the 
rest know it almost instantly. 

Then when a hen clucks to her chickens they must 
know that she says " Come," or something like it. 

Your friend, Nelly D. B . 

Fernbrae, Dl'ndee. 

Dear Jack : I am a little girl of nine years, and have 
just taken St. Nicholas this year. ... In the April 
number you asked if your readers thought that all animals 
have their own languages. I think they have a sort of 
one ; anyway, they can make themselves understood, espe- 
cially horses, cats, and dogs. We have an old dog of fifteen, 
and a kitten, and we always know by the way the dog barks 
or the kitten mews if they are hungry or angry with each 
other. .\s for other animals I think you can see by the 
way they look at you what they want. 

I hope you will print this letter, as it is the first I have 
written. Your little Scottish reader, Gertrude .\. \V. 

San Francisco. 

Dear Jack : The buffaloes of North .\merica have 
sentries when they are feeding, and at a snort, or prance, 
or a motion, the whole herd will make off. 

The elephants when marching through the forests are 
led by an old one and obey him, stopping when he stops, 
and going when he goes. The springbok of South -\frica 
is another animal of that kind. Hunters of Africa tell 
us that if one of the sentries discovered them, five seconds 
after being discovered the whole herd was nowhere to 
be seen. The wildebeest, bison, and zebra are other 
animals — besides the wild horses, who roam over the 
plains — that have a leader at their head who conveys his 
orders to the herd in some mysterious manner. 

Whether this is a language between animals or whether 
it is not, it cannot be doubted that they have a way of 
communicating with each other. P. H . 

Annie H., Henry W. T., Elva F., A. L., A., Edith M. 
P., Agnes W., and .\lice E. also sent very interesting 


Deacon Green is puzzled. He has been asked 
"What is our National Hymn?" Of course he 
has an opinion, but no man's opinion, however 
wise, can decide such a question. 

He would like to hear from you young folks. 
Is our National Hymn "The Star-Spangled Ban- 
ner," " My Country, 't is of Thee." " Hail Colum- 
bia," "Columbia the Gem of the Ocean," or 
■' Yankee Doodle " .'' 

With the World's Fair approaching, the Deacon 
says we ought to have this momentous question 

Talk this matter over with your parents, my 
children. Inquire of every one — in short, so stir 
up the question that there will be little rest for 
grown folk, or little folk either, until it is settled. 

Who knows but that on the Fourth of July, 
1892, you children all over this great country — 
east, west, north, and south, may be singing as 
with one voice the one authorized National Hymn 
that henceforth shall be recognized as ours forever ! 


X. Y. Z. requests your Jack to say that the two 
long words which she "broke up" for you last 
month are these: " INCOMPREHENSIBLENESS" 


Contributors are respectfully informed that, between the i^l uf June and the 15th of September, manuscripts can- 
not conveniently be examined at the office of St. Nicholas. Consequently, those who desire to favor the 
magazine with contributions will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date. 

Will Pansy M. M., who wrote a letter printed in the keys in preference to riding in the jolty stages. Wc 

I.etter-Box of the .-Xpril St. Nicholas, please send her came here over the Rio Grande way, where there is such 

, ,, , , , , T- I- ninfrnificent mountain scenerv. 

full name and present address to the Jiditor. 

magnificent mountain scenery. 

Your constant admirer, Vivian T. C- 

Brooklvn, N. Y. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I have taken you for several 
years, and for some time have wanted to w-rite and tell 
you how very much I enjoy reading you; but having a 
dread of the waste-paper basket, I have never gained 
courage to venture until now. 

Two years ago I spent a winter in Florida. I enjoyed 
it exceedingly, and ])erhaps one of my most enjoyable 
excursions was my trip down the Oclawaha River, which 
I will briefly describe to you. 

The Oclawaha River is a very crooked river, constantly 
twisting and turning. The water is not very clear, 
although in some portions, especially near Silver Springs, 
you can see the beautiful plants on the bottom of the 
river, tlirough lovely pale-green or blue water. Tall 
trees grow along each bank, and sometimes nearly meet, 
so that they form arches over the narrow river ; all the 
trees are heavily laden with Spanish-moss. We left Sil- 
ver Springs (our starting point) in the early morning, 
and remained on the deck of the little steamer until din- 
ner was announced. Oh, never will I forget that dinner 1 
In the first place, it was served in a stulTy little cabin, 
and, in the second place, scarcely anything was fit to eat. 
You may well think we did not linger at the table. 

We passed the afternoon pleasantly on deck, several 
of the gentlemen trying their skill in the fishing line, 
during the greater part of the voyage. We frequently 
saw alligators and large turtles, and one of the young 
men who was fishing discovered a moccasin snake swim- 
ming up the river ; he caught it on his fish-hook, and 
it was immediately killed by one of the sailors. Evening 
came all too soon, and, after a tea in the little cabin, we 
again gathered on deck, this time to enjoy the singing of 
our colored crew. When we met the up boat, quite 
a time was made, ringing bells, tooting horns, etc., and 
each crew trymg to outdo the other in loud singing. 

The next morning, when we woke, we were at our 
journey's end, and all agreed in thinking it had been a 
very delightful trip. 

Wishing you a long life of prosperity, 

1 remain your devoted admirer, E. M. J . 

Toledo, Ohio. 
Dear St. Nicholas : We have just moved here from 
Montana. Last summer we spent in California, and 
thought perhaps you would like tu hear something about 
our trip. We went to Pescadero and amused oursehes 
by picking and sorting the beautiful pebbles most of the 
time. .Vfter that we went to Monte Rey and visited the 
Hotel Del Monte, which is one of the largest in the 
world. We went through the old adobe churches with 
their tiled roofs, which are the old Indian Missions built 
by the Spaniards at Monte Rey. .-\t Santa Cruz we en- 
joyed watching the surf-bathers. We went through the 
beautiful Voscmile Valley and often rode our little don- 

BosTo.N, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Long live you ! I thought I 
would write to you, as I have not before. I am eleven, 
and have two brothers, one eighteen and one fifteen. 

I have a parrot named " .Archie " ; he talks a good deal, 
and he is pretty tame. I have no other pets ; we had 
a dog, but he got poisoned in Newport, Rhode Island, 
where I was born. 

I have a large seal collection. I have one put on by 
Daniel Webster, and a great many other ones. And a 
large stamp collection, which is pretty valuable. I have 
the first Transcript ever issued, which is worth a good 
deal. I have a good many old things besides these. 

I go to school every day, and like 10 very much. I 
study reading, spelling, and arithmetic, Latin, French, and 
geography, grammar. We take drawing and carving, and 
Slojd or .Swedish system of carpentering. It is very inter- 
esting. I aiTi afraid my letter is getting loo long, so I 
will stop. So good-by. 

From your constant reader, .K. T. B . 

Rye, New York. 

Dear St. Nicholas; I wanted to say something 
about Rembrandt Peale, whose letter is in the -April St. 
Nicholas. He is my great-grandfather, and we have 
his portrait and his second wife's hanging in our parlor, 
painted by himself, life size. We have other pictures 
painted by him also. All his daughters were artists 
except my grandmother. 

I have been much interested in your stories, but I like 
" Lady Jane " best. 

Your affectionate reader, B. P . 

Savannah, Georgia. 

Dear St. Nichol.\s : We slay in the Episcopal 
Orphans' Home. .A little boy gave you to us for a 
Christmas present, and we like. you very much; we 
don't know what we would do without you. We do 
all of our own work and go to school in the morning 
and in the afternoon we sew ; we make our own 
clothes. We have a pet cat, two birds, and a great many 
chickens. Each one has a week in doing different pans 
of tile housework ; two girls cook every week, one works 
in the dining-room and two in the pantry. Wc have a 
little girl four years old, and she is the s^veetest little 
thing we ever had here. She is the pet of the house ; 
everybody loves her dearly. 

We are, dear St. Nicholas, your devoted readers, 
Winnie S — '—. and Lottie li . 

Mv Dear St. Nicholas : .\s I have never seen a 
letter from (|uaint old Nuremberg, I would like very 


much to see one in print. Papa, mamma, and I have This picture of Mr. C'rali's Fourth of Julv w 

been spending the winter in Europe. We have been the Letter-Box bv the late Frank Lloyd' Dr 

here for about a month, but leave for Italy in a few days. „ i„ .u i , u . .i r .i,- . 

T 1111 . . 11 u » .v.- 1 ■ u u made the sketches at the a<;e of thirteen. 

I would like to tell you about something which hap- " 

pened while we w'ere in Vienna. We saw the little 
Crown-Princess Elizabeth start for a drive with her 
mamma, the Princess Stephanie. They drove to one of 
their castles near the city ; and while they were there a 
little peasant boy saw the little Princess ; he recognized 
her and took off his cap, then ran to her, knelt and kissed 
her hand. They must have made a very pretty picture, 
as each of the children is only about six years old. 

Most cordially yours, En.\. 

as sent to 
ake, who 


I 'd like to give a party some lovely summer's day, 

'When the air is warm and fragrant with the scent of 
new-mown hay, 

When song-birds warbling blithely and brooklets run- 
ning free 

And busy little insects all join in minstrelsy. 

And who would be invited? First, that thoughtful little 

With the heart so sweet and loving — I mean Lord 

Fauntleroy ; 
Juanita and her brother; kind little Sarah Crewe, 
And Dorothy and Donald, and a host of others too. 

Yes, all the story people — "Little Women," "Little 

Men " ; 
And all Miss Alcott's people — the children of her pen. 
And when it came to parting I 'm sure we 'd all agree 
We had ne'er before attended such a pleasant company ! 

Milwaukee, 'Wis. 
Dear St. Nick : In all the three years that I have 
taken your charming paper I have seen but one letter 
written from this city. It seems so strange to me, because 
I know so many girls and boys that subscribe to you. 
You publish the prettiest stories ! " The Gates on 
Grandfather's F'arm " is lovely. I am so fond of the 
country. Almost every summer we go to a little resort 
not far from here called Lakeside. It is not at all like a 
farm, but we have a great deal of country fun there. .\t 
Lakeside families of ten accustom themselves to the use 
of four or five rooms. It is a cluster of about thirty cot- 
tages around a small hotel. All the guests have their 
meals at the hotel. There is riding, driving, boating, 
and every kind of outdoor fun all day, and dancing in 
the ball-room every evening. Last Fourth of fuly, 
mamma and some other ladies got up all sorts of races, 
and the gentlemen furnished very handsome fireworks 
in the evening. I won the ])rizes for four of the girls* 
races ! Was I not lucky ? One summer papa gave me 
a beautiful Cotswold lamb ; I called her Miss Nibble 
Snow. She used to follow me everywhere, but her 
greatest accomplishment was playing "tag. " She used 
to chase me all around the trees, and dodge with much 
more skill than I have. Finally she was so large that we 
had to sell her. I have never really enjoyed lamb-chops 
since ! My small brother a taste for gardening, but 
his efforts are not crowned with success. Yesterday he 
came to me with a troubled expression that I knew meant 
mischief, and said, " I 've been fixing your plant, but it 
don't look right." He had killed it. But when he said, 
" Please souse me," I had to forgive him. 
From one of your admiring friends, 

Eleanor R. M . 

Xo. 1. Mr. Crab finding a lighted cat-tail and a firecracker on the 

beach, thinks he will celebrate the glorious " Fourth." 
No. 2. He celebrates the Fourth, and loses his claw. 
No. 3. He is obliged to call in Dr. Lobster. 

Philadelphia, Pa. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I thought I would write to you 
and tell you a little about the queer ways of ^e people 
living in Brazil. You must not think I have been there, 
for I have not ; but my brother has, and he has told us a 
great many funny things about the way the people live, 
and of the odd customs. He says the first thing you notice 
as you enter a city is that the houses have no chimneys; 
that is because it is so hot that they never need a fire. 
.\nother thing he told us, which I thought was very 
funny, is that instead of the milkmen going around in 
wagons, as they do here, they drive the cow to the door 
and milk her. I think that is a good way ; you can't have 
any water in the milk then. 

I liked the story of" Lady Jane " very much, and in 
one of my books I have a picture of Mother Margaret. 
I hope this letter is not too long to print, as I have not 
told mama or papa anything about it. 

I remain your lo\ing reader, P. .\ . 

Larnf.d, Kansas. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I live a mile east of Lamed. 
There is a little piece of the Santa Fe trail left, which 
has got filled up with dirt, but you can see where it 
was. There are lots of buffalo-wallows and trails 
around. The Denver, Memphis, and .Atlantic R. R. 
is a quarter of a mile away, where it crosses the .Ar- 
kansas River. The river rose before they got it built, 
and swept away some of the piles. The river is a mile 
from our house, and it rose within a quarter of a mile 
from our house. It went down that night, and next 
morning it went down about to its banks. It 's very 


sandy on the other side of the river. The trains got 
stuck in the snow a little piece west of here a week or 
two ago. There have been lots of wild geese flying over, 
and at night you could hear them down at the river. 
There are lots of people hunting them. 

Your respective reader, Wii.i, 1! . 



I fish all day, some days, but do not catch a thing. 
One night we went trolling for trout. When we got back 
it was dark, and we saw Fayette pulling up fish by the 
wharf. I fished there and caught a good many shiners, 
and papa caught beautiful trout, big pink ones and some 
little ones that were always cooked for me. Papa has 
given me a fly, a " grizzly king,'' on which he has caught 
thirty trout, and I wear it in my cap. 

I love you, St. Nicholas, very much indeed. Good- 
by. Your little friend, Jeannette J . 

By Elizabeth S. Bates. 

Beryl. — I am the oldest, so I '11 tell 

The first; now Mama, listen well: 
Our first is what we call a man 
Who leads the purest life he can ; 
Who feeds the hungry, clothes the poor, 
And helps the needy at his door. 

Kitty. — Our next is but a little thing 

That carelessness will often bring 
To pretty dishes, dolls and toys ; 
You tremble when you hear a noise. 
For this small thing will mar them all 
From just one little knock or fall. 

A.vx.A. — Our third I say when I am glad 
Or when I 'm very, very sad ; 
And when I stub my toe and fall 
I say it then the most of all ; 
But when the rockets burst and shine 
Then it tells we think they 're fine. 

Tom. — Our fourth I 'm thankful that I 'm not. 
For this good reason, that we 've got 
A plenty in my sisters four ; 
I 'm grateful that there are no more. 
So I am glad that I 'm a boy. 
And like the things that boys enjoy. 

Elizabeth. — Our whole we all know very well ; 
We love to hear what he can tell 
Of fun and frolic and the store 
Of fairy tales and Brownie lore. 
He 's everywhere the children's friend 
And all to him their greetings send. 

The Adirondacks. 

My Dear St. Nicholas : I want to tell you about 
the Indian boys of the school at Hampton, Va. One 
Indian boy I like very much. The building where they 
live is named the Wigwam, and my aunt takes care of the 
boys. They are very kind to me. I had an afternoon 
tea, and invited some of the Indian boys and Mr. and Mrs. 
F., and " Peggy " ( Peggy 's a dog). I had some choco- 
late and cakes, and a very nice time. All came whom I 
invited. One night there was a party at Winona (the 
Indian girl's home), and I went over to it. We had a 
very good time ])Iaying blindman's-buff and other games. 

Our camp here in the Adirondacks is on a ]>retty pond 
near Big Tupper Lake. We have two guides, John and 
Fayette, and three dogs, " Foo," " Drive," and "Jack." 
We have three tents, one for papa, another for Aunt Anne 
and me, and one for the guides and a store-house. " Mar- 
garet," my doll, has a little tent put up, and one night she 
had a cunning little camp-fire, about as large as my hand. 
In front of the big tent there is a fire made to cook things, 
and in the evening we have a fire in front of our tents, 
and a little stove inside. I think I shall never forget 
about camp. The head of the first deer papa shot is 
to be mounted for mv little room at home. 

By Hamilton. {.4 Young Contributor.) 

An Aquarium is a very interesting thing. It consists 
of a water-tight glass case, open at the top, half full of 
water, with the bottom just covered with sand and a few- 
big rocks in the middle ; it is nicer to have a flag-lily or 
any other aquatic plant and a bank of sand at the side. 
The most familiar animals for the Aquarium are gold- 
fish, turtles, frogs, lizards, alligators, tadpoles, etc. I 
advise my readers not to have any frogs, for they are 
always jumping out and they eat most of the other ani- 
mals. I have known a frog in my Aquarium to eat in 
one day a small turtle, two goldfish, and one pet lizard ; 
after this greedy meal he died of indigestion. 

The best thing to give your animals to eat is a thin 
wafer called rice-cake, broken up into small pieces and 
thrown into the Aquarium ; this can be obtained at the 
druggists or animal fanciers. 

The water should be changed once a day to keep your 
animals healthy. The best way to change it is by hav- 
ing a hole in the bottom of the Aquarium with a piece of 
wire netting over it, so that the small animals cannot 
escape. When you have taken out enough water the 
hole may be stopped up by means of a cork. 

It is very interesting to get some frogs' eggs and see 
them hatch ; first they will burst and a miniature fish will 
come out of each one of them ; then in the course of 
several weeks they will grow larger ; then two fore feet 
will gradually grow ; then two hind feet will slowly 
grow, and the tadpole will look something like a lizard ; 
after a while the tail will wither offi the nose will become 
pointed, and the tadpole will become a small frog, 
which in due time will grow larger, and croak, hop, and 
" Jump Jim Crow ! " 

We thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them: Ida M., Minerva 
C, L. H., Rov W. J., Gertrude A., Isabella C, Carita 
A., Alfred F. E., C. E. I., Arthur H. T., D. A. D., 
Margaret C, Jesse R., Stella S. Y., Charles O. H., 
Wilder W., Helen F., George H. S., Jean H., Fritz A. 
G. N., Marian B., Ermine B., Marie De F., Alton F., 
Harry W. W., Willie A. C. , Laura, Louisa, Beatrix, and 
Dora. Louise W., Jean K. and Clarence E.. Harry G. 
N., Elsie D., Elsie T., Janet C, Charles F. E. Jr., Carrie 
E. L., Helen Curtis S., C. L. E., Francis B. H., Jessie 
B. H., Katrina T. I., Sallv F. D., Harkcr R., I. T. S., 
Nettie B., Marg.iret W. B., Evelyn C. S. G., Mary M. 
L., Frank E., Anne B. R., Andrew B., Gertrude and 
Helen B., A. A. .S.. Harrv S. S., Herbert P., H. O. B., 
Olga R. G., P. D. Y., Algenia T. G., Ethel C, Percy 
W., Margaret M., Eleanor B., Margaret F. J., Ernestine 
W., Ernest S., E. Lois S., Ethel J., Alice E., Susan H., 
Eliza \. P., Ilettv M. \.. Daisy M., Mary, .\gnes, Julia, 
and Ella, Edith M. B., Horace P. -\., Three Hungarian 
Girls, Florence C, Aimee M., Helen E. D., J. W. B., 
Saml. Breckinridge L. 



5. Welts. II. I. Pewit. 

An Escutcheon. Centrals, Robert Bums. Cross-words : 
Rembrandt. 2. Condorcet. 3. Auber. 4. Ebers. 5. Byron. 
Patti. 7. Cable. 8. Gluck. 9. Verne. 10. Ino. 11. S. 

WoRD-BLMLDiNG. I, in, AiH, gain, grain, earing, reaving, ra 
ing, traveling, starveling. 

HoiK-GL.^Ss. Centrals, Belgium. Cross-words: i. Warbler. 
Dream. 3. Fly. 4. G. 5. Tm. 6. Blunt. 7. Primary. 

NovfL Dl.\MONDS. I. Caprice. II. Eaten. 

St. Nicholas Numerical Enmcm.a, Contributors. 

A Greek Cross. I. i. Tabor. 2. Adore. 3. Bowie. 4. 
Oriel. 5. Reels. II. i. Nadir. 2. Apode. 3. Doree. 4. Ideal. 
5. Reels. III. I. Reels. 2. Eclat. 3. Elope. 4. Lapse. 5. 
Steep. I\'. I. Steep. 2. Tiara. 3. E-iger. 4. Erect. 5. Party. 
V. I. Steep. 2. Terra. 3. Ergot. 4. Erode. 5. Paten. 

From the distant tropic strand. 
Where the billows, bright and bland. 
Go creeping, curling round the palms with sweet faint undertune. 
From its fields of purpling flowers 
Still wet with fragrant showers. 
The happy southwind, lingering, sweeps the royal blonms of June. 
Half-square, i. Boreal. 2. Oread. 3. Rent. 4. EaL 5. 


Re-war-d. 3. B-egg 

7. La-she-d. 8. S-tar-ing, 

Centrals, Magna Charu. i. S-imp-ly. 

4 Sl-ant-ed. 5. De-bat-ed. 6. I^act- 

C-orb-an. 10. Rot-ates. 

Ad. 6. L. 

A Star. 

Olives. 7. 


4. Tittle. 5. Stair. 

To our Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the April Number were received, before .'\pril 15th, from Helen C. Mc.Cleary — Jo and 
I— "Infantry"— "The McG.'s'—.'^unt Martha and Mabel— "The Peterkins "— Paul Reese— " May and '79 "— Mamma and Jamie — 
"Violette "— Clara B. Orwig- Alice M Blanke & Co. —" The Wise Five "—E. M. G. —" Uncle Mung "— .Mary Thomson — Lehte- 
Grace and Nan— "Ed and Papa"— NelHe L. Howes— Edith Sewall — Carrie Thacher— Stephen O. Hawkins — Bertha \V. Groesbeck 

— Charlie Dignan — Josephine Shcr\vood — Ida C. Thallon — -Arthur G. Lewis — Hubert L. Bingay — Blanche and Fred — Charles 
Beaufort— Marion G. Rice— " Suse "—•' King Anso IV."— Nellie and Reggie —" Juliet, Miranda, Ophelia, and Portia "—" Deerfoot." 

Answers to Puzzles in the April Number were received, before April 15th, from "My Lady," 2 — Edith P. T., i — Maude 
E. Palmer, 11— A. H. R. and M. G. R., 11 — K. C. S., i — Horace Holden, Jr., 3 — H. E. H. .\I., 6 — R. W. Peacon, i — Carrie B. 
A.. I— H. Hughes, i— Elva E. F., i— J. Clods, i — Elaine S., 3 — Holcombe Ward, 5 — A. V. and S. B. Farquhar, 2 —"Snow- 
flake," I— R. L. McCormack, i — S. Barbour, i — Fanny and Mama, 2 — C. S. P., 5 — " Four Little D's." i — E. W. Wallace, i — 
Emeline \ , 2 — " The Trio," i — " Papa and I," i — .Arthur B. Lawrence, 8 — Edith M. Derby, 4 — " Uncle Ned and I," 7 — Cicely, i 
—"Deux Amies," II— "Polly Wog and Tadpole,' 5— Elsie S., 2— Lillie M. Anthony, 2- "The Nutshell," 9 — Geo. Griffith, i — 
"The Pirate," 3—" Hard Work," 2— "D. I. Agonal," 2—" Grandma, Mama and Harry," 5— Thomas W., i — No name, 5— Agnes 
and Elinor, 9 — Estelle and Clarendon Ions and Mama. 7— Effie K. Talboys. 8 — B. P. King, i — " Le Maiquis," i— C. Curtis, i — 
P. M. Conrad, i — Agnes Laird and Frieda Mueller. 7— "Snooks," 7 — Laura M. Zinser, 3 — James and Sarah Swaine. 5- "Neroo," i 

— W. Kenney, 2— R. and J. King, i— Robert Lee Randolph, 7 — Hetty J. Barrow, 8 —" Sunlight and Shadow," 10— C. and M. 
Kellogg, 2 — Nellie Archer. 9 — L. H. Holland. 4 — Robert A. Stewart, 7— Lisa Bloodgood, 10— " Miramonte Quartette," 11 — M. L. 
Carmichael, i — Raymond Baldwin, 5— Matie I. Dayfoot, 4— Frances Adams, 4— "The Rivals," i — Wilford W. Linsly, 6— Mama, 
Grace and .Annie, s —Geoffrey Parsons, 4 — " The FourC.'s." 2 — Bertram and .Mama, 11 — E. N. G., 6— Mama, Sister, and Marion, 4 
— " The Scott Family," 10 — Ida and Alice, 11 — " Last of the Mohicans," 7 — Mary Keim Staufifer, 11 — " Dictionary and Co.," 5 — 

Clara and Emma, 7 — M. P. Trimble, 5 — No name, ban Francisco, 10. 

DIA3IOXI). of" I.iicile''; from 6 to 14, a famous English admiral; 

from 8 to 14, a distinguished .-Vmerican traveler, writer, 

1. In cranberry. 2. A beverage. 3. To venerate, and poet, born in 1S25 ; from 8 to 15, a famous painter; 

4. The first forge through which iron passes when it is from 15 to :o, an illustrious philosopher and mathema- 

melted from the ore. 5. To expunge. 6. Before. 7. In tician, born in the 17th century. 

cranberry. jl'lia j. lewis. From I to 10, an name famous in history. 



.\ll of the words described contain the same number 

of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below 

the other, the central letters will spell historic ground. 

^___ Q I ■>.....- Cross-words: i. .\ bird. 2. Undeveloped. 3. .Mounds. 

~ .' ' " ' "" ■ • ■ -^3 4. To compare. 5. Habit. 6. A song of joy. 7. Often seen 

■ . t^ <^ . ■ in a fireplace. 8. Unruffled. 9. \ tree which bears red 

berries. 10. Uneven. " dictionary." 



■ _ • ■ _ ■ If one should be so cruel as to 1-2-3-4-5 a little child, 

,' • ' ' ■ \ he should make 2-5-4-5-6 to pacify him with an 3-4-5- 

' 6-7 or some other pretty fall flower, to atone for his 

4-5-6-7-8 behavior ; otherwise, he ought to be thrown 

From ii to 10, one of the great leaders of the French into the w.iter with the 5-6-7-8-9 and other aquatic 

Revolution ; from 2 to II, an Enghsh poet born in 1822; fowls. 

from 2 to 12, a name borne by several popes ; from 4 to When placed one below the other, in the order here 
12, an eminent English navigator ; from 4 to 13, a great given, the five words to be supplied will form a word- 
musical composer, born in 1684 ; from 13 to 6, the author square. M. E. I). 



I AM composed of seventy-eight letters, and am a 
sentence written by Rufus Choate. 

My 76-10 is a verb. My 70-43-21-56 is an exploit. 
My 44-5-33-14 is delicate. My 7-26-67-60 is one of the 
United States. My 66-30-48-54 is a cleansing substance. 
My 13-37-32-73 is often made of pottery. My 20-39- 
46-23-52 is to be loquacious. My 3-17-8-78-36-63 is 
to jolt. My 1-69-18-50-11-9 is a prodigy. My 42-4- 
25-59-53-75-28-34-71 is one of a South .African tribe. 
My 15-61-65-35-41-57-22 is to stammer. My 31-6- 
77-68-72 is a character mentioned in Genesis. My 55- 
51-27-12-29 is an ancient Scandinavian bard. My 62- 
74-49-47-38-24 is having a keen appetite. My 5S-16- 
19-45-2-64-40 was a king of Egypt. M. M. F. 


In toiling, not in work; 

In heathen, not in Turk ; 

In headache, not in pain ; 

In fracture, not in sprain ; 

In stopping, not in walk ; 

In utter, not in talk ; 

In granite, not in slag; 

In standard, not in flag; 

In chasten, not in whip; 

In schooner, not in ship ; 

In Francis, not in Will ; 

In Joseph, not in Bill; 

In Judith, not in Beth ; 

In Lawrence, not in Seth ; 

In yellow, not in brown : 

Tlie whole brings noise to every town. 


uiings ? 16. What mountains are named after a giant? 

1 7. What Australian river is a term of endearment ? 

18. What coast is a troublesome insect? 



Hex nus shang clam la remsmus sipeo ; 

Het thare elis bedhat ni grimmeshin none, 
Ta ster rofm !al ehr cleerhuf inose, 

Whit thear-grisstn liltneys ni nute. 
Het mite, woh fluteibau dan read, 

Wehn alyre strufi giben ot shlub, 
Dan het lull agafele fo eht yare 

Wasys o 're hemt whit a grilshenet shuh! 


I. A VOWEL. 2. .\n exclamation of jov or triumph. 
3. The daughter of Cadmus. 4. Inflexible. 5. The 
angular cur\e made by the intersection of two arches. 
6. A triangle. 7. Raising an uproar. 8. Proportioning. 

9. The act of removing from one place to another. 

10. The removal of inhabitants from one country to 
another, for the purpose of residence. 11. The act of 
sprouting. CHARLES liEAUFORT. 


Each of the words described contain six letters. When 
rightly guessed, and placed one below another, the initial 
letters will spell the n.ame of a sea. 

Cross-words: i. A fish of the tunny kind. 2. .A 
motet. 3. A grayish-white metal. 4. .\ narrow passage. 
5. An Egyptian deity. poLLY. 



Across: i. Household articles. 2. A short sleep. 
3. Floating on the surface of water. 4. A falsifier. 5. A 
little ball. 6. Rarely. 

Dow.N'WARD: I. In mottle. 2. In like manner. 3. -An 
inclosed place. 4. Part of a book. 5. To impede or bar. 
6. Gazes at. 7. To scheme. 8. To inform. 9. A color. 
10. A preposition. 11. In mottle. julia J. lewis. 


I. What country does everybody eat on Thanksgiving ? 
2. What city do you often find in a bottle ? 3. What 
island do ladies sometimes wear ? 4. What city is burned 
nightly ? 5. What city of New Jersey is eaten for des- 
sert ? 6. What city do we find on a toilet table ? 7. What 
city is worn on the head in summer ? 8. What cape 
names a fish ? 9. What city names a kind of board ? 
10. What river names a reptile? 11. What cape names a 
costly fur ? 12. What river names a long coat ? 13. What 
city in the northern part of the United States names a 
statesman? 14. Wliat city in Asia might crow ? 15. What 
two cities in the eastern hemisphere are used as trini- 

9 ... 5 

I. Cross-words: i. Fabled monsters of terrific 
aspect. 2. Fire-worshipers. 3. To beat soundly. 4. One 
who incites. 5. A general statement reached by com- 
parison of different amounts. 6. To deaden. 7. The 
son of Semele. 

From I to 12, a very famous naturalist born in 1769. 

II. Crosswords : i. The god of the waters. 2. A 
fierce .mimal found in -Africa. 3. The apparent junction 
of earth and sky. 4. -A Greek measure of length. 5. 
Two-threaded. 6. The surname of a President of the 
United States. 7. One of the Muses. 

From I to 12, a very famous inventor. 



^-^^/ryfr///^J::^//r^QJ ^ 


Vol. XVIII. 

AUGUST, 1891. 

No. 10. 


Bv Helen Gray Cone. 

Howsoe'er the tale be spread, 
Puck, the pranksome, is not dead. 

At such tidings of mishap, 

Any breeze-blown columbine 

Would but toss a scarlet cap, — 

Would but laugh, with shaken head, 
' Trust it not, do not repine. 

Puck, the pranksome, is not dead ! " 

If you know not what to think. 

Ask the tittering bobolink ; 

Straightway shall the answer rise 

Bubbling from his gleeful breast : 
' Dead ? 'T is but his latest jest ! 

Robin Puck, the wild and wise, 

Frolics on, and never dies ! " 

Had we but the elfin sight, 

On some pleasant summer night 

We should see him and his crew 

In the fields that gleam with dew; 

Had we but the elfin ear 

(Pointed shaqsly like a leaf). 

In the meadows we should hear 

Fairy pipings, fine and brief. 

Shrilled through throats of tiniest flowers ; 

Would that subtler sense were ours ! 

Copyright. 1891, by The Centu 

Tricksy Puck ! I shall not tell 
How it is I know him well. 
Swift yet clumsy, plump yet wee. 
Brown as hazel-nut is he ; 
And from either temple springs 
Such a waving, hair-like horn 
As by butterflies is worn ; 
Glassy-clear his glistening wings, 
Like the small green-bodied flies' 
In the birch-woods ; and his eyes, 
Set aslant, as blackly shine 
As the myriad globes wherein 
The wild blackberry keeps her wine ; 
And his voice is piercing thin. 
But he changes that at will — 
Mocking rogue! — with birdlike skill. 
How it is I must not tell, 
But you see I know him well. 

Ah ! with some rare, secret spell 
Should we bathe in moonlit dew 
Eyes that this world's book have read, 
We should see him and his crew 
In the dreamy summer dell : 
For, howe'er the tale be spread. 
Puck, the pranksome. is not dead I 

'o. All rights resel^-ed. 

HE race was to be a tn- 
angular one ; the starting 
point off Ruggles's wharf; thence two miles 
and a half E. S. E. to Old Can Buoy ; thence 
one and three-quarters miles, N. E. by N., 
around Wood Island ; and then three miles 
W. by S., straight home again. It was to be 
sailed by the Quinnebaug Catboat Club, a 
youthful organization of the town of Quinne- 
baug, consisting of six catboats with their 
respective owners and crews, and having a 
constitution, a commodore, a club-house, and 
a club-signal, all its own. The prizes were given 
by the bishop's daughter. They were an ele- 
gant yachting ensign for the boat first in, and a 
brass compass set in a rosewood box for the 
second. The boys were enthusiastic over the 
jjrospect. There was not one of them, com- 
modore, captain, or crew, but believed that 
the boat he sailed in would take either first or 
second ])rize. 

I'hil Carr and Horace Martin stopped at the 
bishop's cottage on the way down to the wharf, 
the morning of the race, to take a last look at 
the prizes. Miss Maitland herself was on the 
porch as they came up. Miss Maitland was a 

very beautiful young lady who came every sum- 
mer to Quinnebaug with her father, the bishop. 
She took a warm interest in the affairs of the 
catboat club. She went into the cottage with 
Phil and Homer, and once more the ensign and 
compass were examined and admired. 

" I only wish I might see this at the jieak of 
the ' Nameless,' " said Phil, with the bunting in 
his hand. He spoke with the least bit of a sigh. 
The Nameless was a good boat ; but, alas ! there 
was one boat in the club, the " Flash," that up 
to this time had been able to show herself a 
better. It was to this fact that Phil owed it 
that Clarence Caldwell and not he himself was 
commodore of the club. 

" I am sure I wish you miglit," said Miss 
Maitland, heartily. 

Phil was a favorite with her, anti there was 
no bo\- in the club to whom she would rather 
have awarded the prize. 

" I shall try my best," said Phil. 

Then Miss Maitland took from the table and 
held up before the boys what she laughingly in- 
formed them was a third |)rize, a large tin watch 
with a leather chain. 

" This is given by my Uncle Poindexter," 


said she. " He has come down here to deliver 
a lecture for the Society for the Prevention of " 
Cruelty to Animals. You know he is full of fun. 
This is one of his jokes. It 's a booby prize 
for the boat that comes in last." 

" The Nameless won't take that, at any rate,'' 
Phil declared stoutly. " Will she, Horace ? " 

"No," said Horace emphatically, "the Name- 
less won't take that." 

There were things that the Nameless could n't 
do. She could n't come in last at a race. 

The day of the great race came. 

Down at the wharf quite a number of people 
had assembled, and the boats were already pre- 
paring for the start. The Nameless was quickly 
among them, with Phil at the helm and Horace 
close at hand, ready and alert at the slightest 
hint to do his captain's bidding. Presently the 
first gun was fired from the judge's boat, and the 
boats, all under way now, began standing about, 
each with the purpose of crossing the starting line 
at the earliest possible moment. Then, as the 
final minute drew near, one after another, as 
each found itself in position, they sprang away 
across the line. Bang! from the tug went the 
second signal ; and the race was begun. 

It was anybody's race for the first stretch. 
The wind was free, and good sailing was easy 
for everybody. The boats, all six, were still 
keeping well together as they rounded the Old 
Can Buoy. 

From that point on, however, things were 
diflferent. The breeze was forward now ; and 
presently, with Wood Island to keep it off, 
there was less of it. There was a chance for 
manoeuvering. You could make long tacks or 
short ones; you could lay a boat close to the 
wind or could keep her off; and the saihng 
qualities of both crafts and skippers were put 
more severely to the test. It soon became 
apparent, on this windward stretch, which 
were the better boats of the fleet. Two of 
them, before long, had drawn well ahead of 
the other four and seemed to be making up 
a match between themselves. They were the 
Flash and the Nameless. Phil Cart's eye spar- 
kled and his heart beat quicker as he realized 
the fact. This was what he wanted; indeed, 
it was what he had expected. He had believed 
all along that the two boats destined to take 


those two prizes were his own and Clarence 
Caldwell's. He had felt sure that the Nameless 
would get the second prize at least. But he 
intended her to take the first. And as he sat 
there, the tiller in one hand and the sheet in 
the other, and felt his boat draw and spring 
beneath him, Phil resolved that she should take 
the first. The Flash was not a better boat than 
the Nameless. Certainly, Clarence Caldwell was 
not a better sailor than he. .\nd if pluck and 
skill and watchfulness could do anything, he 
meant to be in first at the finish, and not second. 

The Flash weathered the north point of Wood 
Island first, however, and, standing on a few 
moments beyond it to make sure of deep water, 
was first to turn westward for the home stretch. 
But the Nameless was not far behind her ; and 
Phil, as he cleared the island, noted a condition 
of things that more than counterbalanced the 
distance between the two boats. The wind had 
shifted, around here. The run home would be 
straight before it. Moreover it was blowing 
harder. Now, as it happened, this state of 
things was exactly what the Nameless wanted 
and what the Flash did not want. With the 
wind aft and plenty of it, the Nameless was 
always at her best and the Flash at her worst. 
Phil Carr's heart swelled exultantly as he slack- 
ened his own sheet and headed his boat home- 
ward. Well he knew that long before that 
three-mile stretch was ended he would over- 
haul his rival and leave him behind. 

Five minutes later it seemed clear that Phil's 
hopes would be realized. They were certainly 
overtaking the Flash. The gestures of the 
boys on board the latter boat could now be 
plainly discerned. Phil gaily declared that he 
could see their faces grow long at the prospect 
of being beaten. Presently a stir was observa- 
ble on board the Flash, and then Commodore 
Caldwell was seen to be looking very intently 
through a pair of field-glasses at something 
off to the northward. 

'■There 's nothing over there but Highwater 
Rock," said Phil. " What 's he looking at 
Highwater Rock for ? " 

" Perhaps he wants to know about the tide." 
Horace suggested. 

It was a well-known fact among the boys that 
the state of the tide could be at any time almost 



exactly determined by a l(X)k at Highwater 
Rock. The rock was all out of water at low 
tide, and was just covered from sight at high 
tide. It was from this fact that it got its name. 
It lay half a mile or so northward of where 
the boats now were and could be plainly seen, 
although only a foot or so of it was now above 
water. The tide was nearly in. 

■• Humph ! " said Phil in answer to Horace's 
suggestion ; " he would n't need a pair of 
opera-glasses to see the tide with. No," he 
added, after a moment, " he 's looking at some- 
thing on the rock. What can it be ? It looks 
like a bird or something. Hand me the spy- 
glass, will you ? " 

So Horace brought the spy-glass from where 
it hung in the companionway, and Phil, giving 
Horace the tiller, opened it, carefully adjusted 
it to a mark on the barrel, and then leveled it in 
the direction of the rock. He had hardly done 
so when he uttered an exclamation : 

" Why," cried he, " it 's a cat ! " 

"A cat !" repeated Horace in astonishment. 
" How came a cat on Highwater Rock ? " 

" I don't know," Phil answered, still looking 
through his glass. " But it 's a cat, sure. Some- 
body 's left it there to get rid of it, maybe." 

" Well, they 've taken a sure way," said 
Horace. " The rock will be all under water in 
half an hour." 

" Poor thing ! " murmured Phil in a pitying 
tone. The glass brought the cat so near that 
it almost seemed the victim might hear him. 
" It 's too bad. I 'd stop and pick you up, 
if I was n't sailing a race." 

They stood on several minutes, still watching 
the cat with interest. It seemed too bad to 
leave her there. But what could be done ? 

" I vow ! " exclaimed Phil at last. " I think 
Clarence Caldwell might run over there and 
take her off." 

He spoke in an irritated tone. Possibly his 
own conscience was pricking him a little. 

" I don't see why he should do it any more 
than we should," observed Horace simply. 

" I do," declared Phil. " He 's going to lose 
the race, anyway ; and it won't make so much 
difference to him." 

Horace shook his head. " I don't believe he 
will look at it in that way," said he. 

It would .seem that the owner of the Flash 
did not look at it in that way, for he still stood 
on. And the Nameless stood on after him. 
But Phil still looked anxiously now and then at 
the cat. And presently he took to looking 
aft, too, where the four other boats could now 
be seen coming round the island. 

Perhaps some of them would go over and 
get the cat. There was no reason they should 
not ; they could n't win the race. 

But the minutes passed and the boats held 
on ; and (although they must have seen her) 
not one of them showed any signs of turning 
aside to go to the rescue of the cat. Phil dis- 
gustedly gave them up at last, every one of 
them, as cases of utter, incurable heartlessness. 

Then he looked over at the cat again. He 
almost fancied he could hear the poor crea- 
ture's cries as the water rose about her. He 
turned his eyes away. He would not look at 
her. But he could not help thinking of her. 

Then, all in an instant, he jumped to his feet, 
shoved over his tiller and began hauling in his 
sheet. The boat came up to the wind and in 
another moment, with her sheet trimmed well 
aft, the Nameless was running off at a sharp 
angle from her former course. 

" Well ! " uttered Horace in blank amazement, 
" what 's that for, I should like to know ? 
What are you going to do ? " 

" I 'm going after that cat," answered Phil 
grimly. And that was all he said. 

At the " finish " of the race, the Flash came 
in first, still making good her claim to being 
the best boat in the club. Commodore Cald- 
well proudly kissed his hand, as amid plaudits 
from the shore and the waving of gay-hued 
parasols and handkerchiefs he shot across the 
line and his time was taken. 

The "Prancer" came next, not so very far 
behind, winner of second place. Then followed, 
one after the other, the " Winsome," the "■Jo/ie," 
and the " Black-Eyed Susan." 

And last, with her colors union down in comic 
token of distress, came the Nameless. Phil's 
friends greeted him laughingly as he and Horace 
came up the steps of the wharf. 

'• Hallo, Phil," they cried, " brought 'em all 
back with you this time, eh ? " 


" Yes," answered Phil laughing too. '• We 
carried everything before us this time." 

Then, with the cat under his arm, he went up 
to the bishop's to get his tin watch. Phil had 
no notion of being ashamed of himself because 
he had been beaten. He was not sorry for 
what he had done. 

There was a gathering of the guests on the 
bishop's lawn, where there were to be refresh- 
ments, and the awarding of the prizes. 


Maitland's uncle, came forward holding a paste- 
board box. Mr. Poindexter was a quaint, wiry 
little gentleman with a nervous manner and a 
quick, jerky way of speaking. His jokes always 
sounded funny whether they were so or not. 
Phil bit his lip and felt that his time had come. 
" Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Poindexter 
began in a comically impressive tone, " I believe 
that watches or chronometers are generally con- 
sidered indispensable on board ship." 

Miss Maitland herself conferred the first two 
prizes, speaking a few appropriate words to 
the winners as she did so. Phil Carr's heart 
throbbed rcbelliously as he saw Clarence Cald- 
well receive and bear away the yachting ensign. 
Phil had wanted that ensign dreadfully, and he 
knew that "by good rights" he ought to have it. 
But he was glad that Dave Comstock took the 
second jmze, which Dave could not have done 
had the Nameless kept her course. 

Then, after a moment, Mr. Poindexter, Miss 

Then he took the tin watch from the box and 
held it up to view. There was a burst of good- 
natured merriment from the audience. They 
understood that this was the booby prize. 

" I suppose they are needed," continued the 
speaker, " to keep the ship from being behind 
time." At this there was more merriment. 
Then he added facetiously, " I don't know 
whether this is the starboard watch or the port 
watch or the dog watch. Perhaps it is the 
anchor watch." Whereupon those who were 




listening laughed more than ever; all except 
Phil, who did not feel like seeing anything 
funny about it at all. 

Then Mr. Poindexter's manner suddenly be- 
came graver. 

" But before I call upon the young gentleman 
who has won this valuable prize to come forward 
and receive it, I wish to show you its works," 
said he, " and to tell you a little story about it." 

Mr. Poindexter, as he spoke these words, 
touched a spring in the case of the watch, 
which, flying open, disclosed a bright object 
within. This object he took out and held up 
to view by itself. It was a beautiful gold watch 
and chain. The audience gazed at it in silent 
wonder, Phil Carr more amazed and mystified 
than all the rest. 

" You all know," continued Mr. Poindexter, 
smiling, " that I am a member of the Society 
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. That 
is my hobby, people say. And I am quite con- 
tent that they should call it so, if they like. 
Certainly, the objects which that society has in 
view commend themselves to me, and 1 think so 

well of them that I do everything I can to for- 
ward them wherever I am. When I came down 
here yesterday and learned about the boat race. 
I immediately concocted a little plan of my own 
in connection with it, which had to do directly 
with this hobby of mine. I resolved to test 
these boys, while they were racing their boats 
and striving for their prizes, in a new way — to 
find out how much kindness of heart they could 
feel and show for a dumb animal in distress. 

" This was the way I did it. This morning, 
as soon as the boats started in the race, I had a 
man take a steam launch and go down to what 
you know as Highwater Rock and leave there, 
on the rock, a cat that I had borrowed. I did 
not mean to leave her there for any length of 
time, of course, or that she should be in danger. 
The man had instructions to wait until the boats 
were in sight before he left her ; and he was 
to run over to Wood Island until the boats 
went by, and then go back and take her ofl" 
again. I had an object in view which I thought 
warranted me in subjecting her to so much of 
anxiety. 1 knew that the boats, in sailing; the 


last stretch of the race, would pass in full view 
of the rock and must see the cat. And I knew — 
and I knew that each of those boys would 
know — that if the poor creature were left there 
the tide would certainly come up before long 
and drown her. My object was to see if an\- 
of the boys would turn aside from the race to 
pick her up. I hoped that some one of them 
would be humane enough to do so e\en though 
he should thereby seriously damage his pros- 
pects in the race. I am glad to tell you, ladies 
and gentlemen, that the plan succeeded admir- 

" The captain of one of the boats had the 
race practically in his hands. Four of the 
boats were well behind him, and he was rapidly 
overhauling the only one that was ahead. And 
yet, in spite of this, when he saw that none of 
the others would do it, he himself stood over to 
Highwater Rock and rescued the cat from her 
perilous position. I saw the whole race through 
a spy-glass from the bishop's cupola, as plainly 
as if I myself had been in the boat. It was 


a noble act. 1 honor and praise that young 
gentleman for it. And in the name of the societ)- , 
which in some sense I represent, I thank him 
for it, and beg him to accept this watch as a 
tribute to his real manliness of character. Will 
Master Philip Carr please come to the plat- 
form ?" 

Then Phil, confused and blushing, went for- 
ward, and presently found himself, cat and all, 
standing before the audience while a perfect 
storm of applause burst upon him from the 
hundred true friends of his that were present. 
Everybody liked Phil Carr; but they liked him 
that day as they had never liked him before. 
And when he received his new gold watch 
e\erybody was as glad and happy over it as he 
was himself. 

" Ah, Phil ! " said the bishop's daughter as 
she took his hand to congratulate him, " this is 
better than beating the Flash, is it not ? " 

" Yes, indeed ! " cried Phil. And then he 
added confidentially, " But I mean to beat the 
Flash yet, Miss Maitland." 


_ .1 ^^ ^ 

■M% of the '^' 

(^oldea piunxe 

iv4 T F 

Dy rle^r^txret JoKasorv . ^ 

When the midsummer wanes and the fields are loud 
With pipe of crickets, and bees a-boom ; 
When the blackberries ripen along the hedge, 
And the grass is brown at the thicket's edge, 
When the rose that reigned by the roadside gray 
Has flung her crown to the winds away, — 
He comes, to rule with a lordlier sway, 
Prince Elecampane of the Golden Plume. 

The dust rolls up in a curling cloud ; 

He recks not the mimic white simoom. 
He laughs in his scorn of the passers-by, 
Who, trudging, scan with a vacant eye 
His .shape superb, in its splendor drest. 
The sunbeams gilding his radiant crest, 
And the fire of )outh in his royal breast, 

Prince Elecampane of the Golden Plume. 

The burdocks under his feet are bowed. 

They crouch and cower to yield him room. 
He turns from the reaching venturous vine, 
The daisies that dim in his shadow shine. 
He nods with an arrogant, easy grace 
To the breeze that timidly fans his face. 
He is lord of the realm for a little space. 

Prince Elecampane of the Golden Plume. 

The thistle he woos, — she is flushed andjiroud, 
As she leans to her lord in the fragrant gloom. 

His heart is haughty, his hopes are bold. 

The blood in his veins is a wine of gold. 

He lifts his face to the cloudless sky, 

.\nd the summer wanes, and the days flit by, 

.'Knd he scarce remembers that he must die '. 
Prince Elecampane of the Golden Plume. 


The asters shine in a starry crowd, 

The goldenrod breaks to her ])erfect bloom, 
And the sumach marshals his banners red, 
And crowns her ijueen in the prince's stead. 
He feels, astonished, his strength decline. 
He fails, he droops, by the blackberry vine, 
And cold in his veins is the ebbing wine. 
Prince Elecampane of the CJolden Plume. 

The spiders spin him a sih'cry shroud. 

The bees go buzzing abroad his doom. 
He trails in the dust his shriveling crest. 
And the faithless thistle laughs with the rest. 
His reign is over, his splendor is spent : 
He yields up his life and his crown, content. 
And the loyal breezes alone lament 

Prince Elecampane of the Golden Plume ! 



By Tudor Jenks. 

A TRAVELER Came to a certain great city, and 
as he entered through one of its wide gates a 
passer-by spoke to him. 

" Welcome, sir," said the citizen. '• I saw by 

'■ Your welcome is most courteous," answered 
the traveler, " and I thank you for it." 

*' You must not fail to see the statue in our 
market-place," said the citizen. " We take 

your dress that you were a stranger and make great pride in it, and for my part I consider 
bold to accost you." myself fortunate in being one of the community 


that owns so fine a work of art and so grand a 

" I shall certainly take pains to see it," an- 
swered the traveler, bowing to the citizen as he . 
passed on. 

So when the traveler had made his way into 
the city he paused for a moment, wondering in 
which direction the market-place lay. As he 
stood in doubt, another citizen presented him- 
self, hat in hand. 

■■ You seem unfamiliar with our city," said the 
new-comer, politely. " If you are seeking the 
market-place I can easily direct you to it." 

'• You are right in your supposition," said the 

" Naturally," said the citizen, smiling. " All 
the world comes to see our great statue ; and I 
have pointed out the way to many. It would 
be strange if I did not know it, for it was I who 
proposed the setting up of the statue in the 
market-place. I am fortunate enough to be 
one of the town council." 

'• My respects to you," said the traveler, salut- 
ing him. 

'■ Follow this straight course," said the coun- 
cilman, pointing, " and ask again when you 
come to the open park." 

Bidding the citizen good-day, the traveler pro- 
ceeded upon his way ; nor did he pause until he 
had come to the park. Then, as he had been 
instructed to do, he made further inquiry at the 
door of a little shop. 

" Yes, indeed, I can tell you," said the woman 
who came to the door, '• for it was my husband 
who designed the pedestal for it. John ! — an- 
other stranger to see the statue." 

" In a moment," said her husband, from the 
back of the shop. " How do you do, sir ? " he 
asked, as he greeted the traveler. " Your face 
seems to me a familiar one. Where have I seen 
you ? Never been here before ? Ah, I must 
have been mistaken. A chance resemblance, 
no doubt ! Turn to the right, and follow this 
wall, and you will soon reach the statue, for 
which I designed the pedestal, as the good 
[jeople of this town will tell you." 

The traveler withdrew, and walked leisurely 
along by the wall. At the first comer he met a 
workingman who was carving a bit of stonework 
on a fence-post. 

" A stranger, sir ? " inquired the workman, as 
the traveler approached. " To see the statue, 
no doubt ? " 

" Yes," said the traveler. 

" A good bit of work, and well worth your 
time. Many 's the long day I have worked over 
it. I carved the block, and never did a better 
bit of work! Turn to the left — but, wait! 
Here is a man who can show you the way. 
Henry ! " 

As he spoke a man who was driving a heav\' 
wagon drew up near the sidewalk. 

"Can you show this gentleman the way to 
the statue ? " 

" Can I ? — when you know well enough thai 
I drew the statue to its place with this very horse 
and wagon. Come, my friend, follow me. Or. 
better still, get up on my wagon and I '11 take 
you there. You 're a lighter load than that bit 
of hewed stone, I warrant you ! " 

So the traveler mounted upon the wagon, and 
was soon at the market-place, and stood before 
the statue itself. 

As he gazed up at it, another citizen ad- 
dressed him : 

" Admiring the statue, eh ? Well, it 's a noble 
bit of art, and a credit to the place. Every 
stranger says so." 

" It seems well done and well kejjt," replied 
the traveler, quietly. 

" Well kept ? To be sure it is well kept ! 
Would the council of the town have me here 
if I did n't attend to my duty? Perhaps you 
don't know that I 'm the custodian of this 
work of art ? Xo? Well, I am. Yes, you 
see before you the statue-keeper. It 's a great 
responsibility; but there, there! — the towns- 
people don't complain, so I suppose my work 
is not so badly done." 

" Who is it ? " asked the traveler. 

" Oh, I never thought to," said the man. 
unconcernedly. '• Maybe I 've heard the name : 
no doubt I have. But I 've forgotten it long 

The traveler thanked the fellow and gave- 
him a silver coin. Then he departed from out 
the city. But as he went through the gate in 
the city wall, there was a boy plajing marbles 
near by, for now the school-hours were over. 
And as the traveler passed him, the boy looked 



to see whose shadow fell upon the wall ; and " You were asleep and dreaming in the sun ! " 

then the boy sprang to his feet, and said : the people said, when the boy told his story. 

" See ! see ! There is the man whose statue And as the traveler never came again, even the 

stands in the market-place ! " boy himself began as he grew older to think it 

And so it was ; but none else in the city knew was a dream, so real seemed the .statue com- 

anything beyond their stone image of the pared to his faint memory of the great one in 

man. whose honor it stood aloft. 


By Anna M. Prait. 

If you should frown and I should frown 

W'hile walking out together, 
The happy folk about the town 
Would .say, " The clouds are settling down. 

In spite of pleasant weather." 

If you .should .smile and I should smile 

While walking out together, 
Sad folk would say, " Such looks beguile 
The weariness of many a mile. 

In dark and dreary weather." 



The boys and girls have gone to bed; the moon shines on the .sea; 

A band of merry sandpipers are going out to tea. 
' We shall be late ! " the youngest cry, in .something of a flurry. 
' Oh, take your time," the elders say, " there really is no hurry ! " 


IJv C'hakli:s K. Backus. 

The crowns of three of the hereditary king- 
doms of Europe are now worn by children. 
Tlie oldest in length of reign and youngest in 
years is Alphonso Xlll.of Si)ain. Hehasbeena 
king from the day of his birth, May 17, 1886, 
his father, Alfonso XII.. having died a few 
months before. 

As the youngest child of Alphonso XII. 
was a boy, under the laws of Spain which de- 
clare that the royal title shall descend in the 
male line whenever that is possible he became 
king at once, taking rank above his sisters, the 
first-born of whom then ceased to be Queen of 
Spain and became only Princess of the Asturias. 
The short life of this titled boy has been less 
happy than that of many of his little subjects, for 
his health has not been good, and he has passed 
through some severe illnesses, which have lett 
him a frail rather than robust child. He has 
recovered from his illnesses without serious 
results, and is now a knowing and attractixe 
little boy, who loves play and delights in mi>- 
chief, even though he does live in a palace ami 
is surrounded with all the ceremony of a court 

As many amusing stories are told of his 
bright sayings and comical acts as are told of 
wonderful babies of less prominent families. 

One anecdote relates to his first attendance 
at chapel. Great pains had been taken to 
make him understand that he must sit very 
still during the service, and especially must not 
say a word. He listened eagerly and in silence 
to the organ, but when the priest commenced 
to speak the small monarch called out, '• Stop ! 
you must not talk in chapel." 

His pictures are common in Europe, and all 
of them are pleasing. In one he is in the chair of 
state. On a footstool, before him, are his two 
sisters, and at his right hand sits his mother. 
Standing before him, in a rich uniform, is one of 
the high officers of Spain, who is reading a long 
address to his sovereign as solemnly as if he were 

in the presence of a monarch of ripe years. Not 
only do the baby eyes stare in surprise at this 
interruption of fun and frolic, but the mouth also 
is wide open, while one tiny hand clutches with 
all its puny strength the fingers of his faithful 
Andalusian nurse, who stands in waitmg behind 
the monarch's chair of state. 

The Spaniards are both an unruly and a chiv- 
alric people. Within twenty-five years they have 



changed their government several times. They 
drove out Queen Isabella, the grandmother of 
Alphonso XIII. An indirect result of their 
effort to choose her successor was the terrible 
war in 1870 between France and Germany. 
One of their temporary rulers, Marshal Prim, 
was assassinated. They would not submit to 
the sway of the Italian Prince, Amadeus, and he 
finally abdicated the throne. A strong party 
among them now prefer a republic, and hope to 
see it established. But all classes have been 
touched by the innocence and lovableness of 
the little fellow who is their ruler in name, and 
the Baby King at present gives real strength 
to the throne. He is greatly hked by his peo- 
ple, and his daily appearance in Madrid with 
his sisters, in his little carriage drawn by four 
fine mules, always calls out universal expres- 
sions of aftection. It is especially fortunate that 
his mother is a woman of good sense, high 
character, and an exceedingly kind heart. She 
was an Archduchess of Austria and is now 
Queen Maria Christina, reigning as regent 
until her son reaches the age of sixteen years. 
She has greatly endeared herself to the people 
of her adopted country by her wisdom and her 
benevolence. Lately, the eloquent leader of the 
Spanish republicans, Seiior Castelar, explained 
the quiet condition of his party by saying : '' One 
cannot make war upon a baby and a woman ! " 

Servia is a new European monarchy. It 
was for many years one of the small principali- 
ties situated on the lower Danube, and bounded 
by Turkey, Austria, and Russia. Its security 
was constantly in peril through quarrels with its 
neighbors because of the rival ambitions of 
those powers. Finally, in 1882, it was made 
an independent kingdom, each of the nations 
who were eager to absorb it consenting to its 
indejjendence with the view of preventing 
the territory from falling into the hands of 
the others. The family of Obrenovich had 
long been Princes of Servia, and its head be- 
came the first king, under the title of Milan I. 
He had married Natalie, the daughter of a Rus- 
sian colonel named de Kechko, and to them 
there was born on August 14, 1876. their only 
child, a son named Alexander. 

King Milan and his wife did not live happily 

together ; and Queen Natalie has been accused 
by many of the folly of letting her Russian 
patriotism outweigh her prudence, and of lend- 
ing herself to plots and intrigues which aimed at 

bringing Servia in greater or less degree under 
the control of her own country. The result 
was a long and bitter quarrel, of which the end 
was their separation and the expulsion of Queen 
Natahe from Servia. King Milan I. finally ab- 
dicated his throne and his son became King of 
Servia on March 17, 1889, under the title of 
Alexander I., while still in his thirteenth year. 
The actual government is in the hands of a 
" Council of Regency," composed of three ot 
the most experienced statesmen and soldiers 
of the country ; and Alexander is yet in care of 
his tutors, and he rarely sees either of his pa- 



rents, iicithtT of wiiom lives at Belgrade, the 
capital. His real authority is as yet but slight. 
He is an attractive youth, speaks French and 
("lerman, as well as the Servian dialect, and is 
rc'ijorted to be intelligent, well-disposed, and 
manly. His reign has thus far been peaceful 
and i)rosperous, for the men who govern in his 
name have shown themselves to be both saga- 
cious and patriotic. 

Wilhflmina. Queen of the Netherlands, was 
bom at The Hague on August 31, 1880, and 
received the full name of Wilhelmina Helena 
Pauline Marie. The monarchy of the Nether- 
ands includes not only Holland but its colonial 
dependencies in South America and the East and 
West Indies. These colonies are both rich and 
extensive, covering an area of 800,000 square 
miles and containing a population of more than 
27,000,000, six times that of Holland itself! 

The youthful Dutch queen is the daughter 
of William HI., who died on November 23, 
i8go, and of Emma Adelaide Wilhelmina, 
Princess of Waldeck-Pyrmont. Her father was 
the last descendant in the direct line of one of 
the most famous families of Europe, the house 
of Orange-Nassau, which has given to history 
three splendid figures : William the Silent, the 
first Stadtholder of the Dutch republic ; his son 
Maurice; and William HI., who became also 
King of England. 

From her early childhood Princess Wilhel- 
mina has been trained to prepare her for her 
royal duties. She has been carefully educated 
under an English governess, having been re- 
quired to master the English and French lan- 
guages as well as the Dutch, and great attention 
has been given to her diet, exercise, and all that 
could contribute to her health. She has also 
received the constant supervision of her mother, 
a woman of amiable character and excellent 
judgment, who is greatly and deservedly be- 
loved in Holland, and who acts as queen 
regent during her daughter's minority. As 
princess, Wilhelmina is dressed plainly, wear- 
ing simple white gowns, and having as her only 
ornament a turquoise or pearl necklace. 

She will not take up the full duties of queen 

for six or seven years to come, and jirobably 
there will lie no great change in her habits and 
privileges in the interval. 

The ])eople of Holland have welcomed her 
to the throne with feelings of tender pride and 
interest akin to those with which more than 
half a century ago Great Britain greeted the 
accession of their " Bonny English Rose," the 
Princess Victoria, then a girl still in her teens. 

That Queen Wilhelmina has alread}- won the 
love of the Dutch has been shown by the fact 
that even during her father's life her birthday, 
although not a regular J'ele, was usually cele- 
brated with public rejoicings by the i)eople. 


Bv J. r. Trowbridge. 

[B^^itH in the November mttnber ] 

Chapter XXXVIII. 


Toby had plenty of time to talk the business 
over with Burke, and give him further instruc- 
tions, before sending him to meet the afternoon 

The boy played his part well, but he brought 
only one passenger ; a disappointment to Toby, 
who had hoped the success of the forenoon might 
be repeated. He was consoled, however, when 
told that there were but two fares for the bus. 
He was beginning to regard the traveling pub- 
lic exclusively as so many " fares." 

He now found a use for one of his omnibus 
tickets. His passenger was going to spend a 
day or two at the Springs, and would not risk 
paying a return fare by the boat, owing to the un- 
certainty of the weather. But he was willing to 
take a ticket which, Toby told him, would be 
good for either the boat or the bus. 

Then there was the party Toby had engaged 
to bring back from the Springs for the four- 
o'clock train. He himself went with his one 
passenger, and returned with the five. Burke, 
who was left to do some work at the wharf, 
let the Whitehall boat in Toby's absence to 
two young fellows going a-fishing. A very sat- 
isfactory business for one day. 

In the evening there was a wind that rendered 
the lake rough for rowboats. But Toby went 
out with Mr. Allerton in the "Swallow," and 
learned to manage it under sail. 

The boat behaved beautifully ; it sailed close 
to the wind, and never missed stays. It was 
a delightful lesson. And what interesting things 
in the present and future Toby had to talk over 
with his friend ! 

Mr. Allerton warned him against being i)ufted 
up by prosperity. 

" Things promise well," said he, " but you 
Vol. XVIII.— 53. 7 

must n't expect to step into a business worth 
twenty or twenty-five dollars a week without 
meeting with obstacles." 

The obstacles were not slow in appearing. 

The following week opened with two days of 
bad weather, when the lake was very rough. 
Then, when business brightened with the bright- 
ening skies, Burke reported that the sign on 
Mrs. Patterson's fence had been pulled down. 

" It must be Yellow Jacket's doing 1 " Toby 
declared resentfully. 

But it was worse than that. 

Mr. Thomas Tazwell, manager of the omni- 
bus line for the railroad of which he was a di- 
rector, was likewise the real-estate agent who 
had let to Mrs. Patterson the old house oppo- 
site the station. She had no lease ; and he had 
lately sent her word that either she or the sign 
must go. 

" So what could I do ? " she said appealingly 
to Toby, when called on for an explanation. 

"Pretty small business for Tazwell, I should 
think I " said Toby indignantly. " But he is n't 
going to stop my boats that way. I 've more 
time now, and I '11 go myself to the depot vvith 
Burke, and we '11 just rope in all the fares we 

Then a still worse thing happened. He 
had found a great convenience, and no small 
profit, in the use of the omnibus company's re- 
turn tickets. So what did the company do ? 
It issued, in place of the old tickets, paper slips 
each stamped with the date and the notice, 
" Good for this day only." If any omnibus 
passengers cared to stay more than one day at 
the Springs, they could arrange matters with 
the driver. But Toby could not receive these 
slips and be sure of using them the same day. 

Still, .some who went over in the omnibus 
were willing to sacrifice their return slips, and 
pay full fare in Toby's boats, in order to enjoy 
the trip on the lake. And Toby spared no 


efibrts in procuring all the " go over " fares 
he could. He and Burke were getting used to 
the business; generally they were both at the 
station to meet the two principal trains; and 
in fine weather they gained a full share of the 
public patronage. 

Then came another device on the part of the 
company. Through tickets to Three Springs 

were sold at the railroad office at Z , the 

great center for summer tourists. These, of 
course, were good only in the bus. On one oc- 
casion every passenger arriving at the village 
on his way to Three Springs was already 
provided with one of these tickets. 

Toby was struck with dismay. 
It seemed for a while that he 
must fall back upon the 
business of letting boats ; 
that was growing in 
importance, but it was 
not enough to satisfy his 
awakened energies. 

Nevertheless, many 
passengers still slipped 
through the company's 
well spread net. Toby's 
business was beginning 
to advertise itself; and 
you might now and then 
have heard, at summer 
resorts, and especiall)' 
in the larger hotels at 

Z , such remarks as 

this : 

"If you go to Three 
Sjirings, don't put so 
much as your nose into 
the omnibus at Lakes- 
end, but find the boy 
there who takes people across the lake in 
his boats. It 's worth while." 

He had his four boats in active service, 
including the "Swallow," which Mr. Allerton 
insisted on his u.sing. Sometimes when the 
wind was favorable he put up the sail and took 
his "fares" across in fine style. If he could 
not return without beating and there was not 
time enough for that, he would " down sail " 
and row. 

Over the Whitehall boat he fitted an awning. 


which could be stretched in calm weather when 
the sun poured down its too fierce rays on the 

His enterprise attracted much attention in the 
village. He was pop- 
ular with the sum- 
mer boarders, 
who hired 
his boats. 

might have heard a great deal of talk about 
" that Traftbrd boy," and the " brave fight " 
he was making with fortune and the railroad 

He had his enemies also. Some took sides 
with the company, called him a cat's-paw, and 


declared that it was n't merely a boy they were 
fighting, but somebody behind him and back- 
ing him. 

This " somebody " must have meant Mr. Aller- 
ton. He certainly had done much to incite and 
direct his young friend. But he took no credit 
to himself for this. If Toby had not possessed 
enterprise, assiduity, and a readiness to take ad- 
vantage of circumstances, no " backing " could 
have enabled him to succeed. 

" I proposed something very like it to another 
young fellow, who lacks those qualities," said 
the schoolmaster. " He would not even look at 
it until Tobias had taken it in hand. Now he 
treats me as if I had injured him, and he is 
Traftbrd's enemy." 

Yellow Jacket might have forgiven Toby for 
accepting what he himself had at first declined, 
and even have become reconciled to seeing the 
boy Burke employed in his place. But the easy 
recovery of the gun by Toby and his friend, 
after his own futile attempt, and Toby's foolish 
sarcasms on the subject had given his vanity 
wounds that would not heal. He did not say 
much, but sullenly brooded over his fancied 

Then, there was the aftair of the swallows, 
which Tom made the most of in keeping alive 
in his companions the bad feehngs Toby had 
aroused. Aleck the Little did not share Tom's 
deep-seated ill will ; but he had a malevolent 
nature that enjoyed seeing mischief afoot. 

As for Butter Ball, he would have forgotten 
in a week all the resentment he was capable of 
feeling, but for his servile subjection to the in- 
fluence of his older companions. He w'as proud 
of being the associate of such fine fellows as 
Tom Tazwell and the minister's son, even 
though often conscious of being regarded by 
them as a mere tool. He had no real hatred 
of Toby. But they made him think he had, 
and muddled his dull wits with the notion that 
to plot revenge was manly. 

Toby also gave offense to some by attending 
strictly to business and having little to say to 
idlers. They called him " stuck-up," and said 
they would like to .see him " let down a peg." 
I regret to say that Bob Brunswick belonged 
to this set. To those inclined to be lazy an 
example of industry is hateful. 


But the enmity of all such would have 
amounted to nothing if Tom had not kept it 
stirred up and given it direction. 

He of course took sides with his father and 
the omnibus line against Toby and his boats. 
He had fallen into the habit of being out late 
nights, when he would meet on familiar terms 
associates with whom he would not have been 
seen speaking by day. He never missed a 
chance of haranguing them on the one excit- 
ing topic. 

'■ What right had he to chip in and interfere 
with our coaches ? " — which proposition he en- 
larged upon, with arguments that would have 
held equally good against all competition in busi- 
ness. '• It was just because he got booted out 
of our store ! And what right has he to block 
up the highway with his wharf? " 

This question was about as reasonable as the 
other. The TrafFord place did not extend to 
the water ; and Toby had found it convenient to 
put his wharf at the foot of the street. But it 
was a small affair, with only one end resting on 
the shore ; and nobody hitherto had thought of 
its obstructing the thoroughfare. 

" Anybody has a right to tear that thing away 
or bum it up ; and that is just what '11 happen to 
it some time, if he 's not careful ! " blustered Tom, 
firing the hearts of his partizans against the al- 
leged obstruction. 

Hints of this opposition reached Toby's ears 
from time to time. But he paid no heed to it 
until it became necessary that his wharf should 
be rebuilt and enlarged. Then came the crisis. 

Chapter XXXIX. 
"i 'll t.\ke the risk." 

In August, summer travel was at its height : 
and to secure his share of it Toby met the de- 
vice of the company's " through tickets " with a 
project of his own. 

In this he had the counsel and assistance of 
his best friend. Mr. Allerton visited the princi- 
pal hotels of Z , and got permission to put 

up printed notices in conspicuous places on the 
walls. He also caused to be inserted in the 
Tourists' World a modest advertisement, with 
editorial paragraphs calling attention to " the 
praiseworthy enterprise of young Mr. Trafford," 



whose line of boats across the loveliest of lakes 
" met a long felt want." 

Toby perceived at once the good efl'ecl of 
these announcements. His boats were crowded 
in fair weather, and occasionally he had to employ 
another assistant. To supply at the same time 
the demand for boats to let, he ordered a new, 
light, cedar boat, to be sent to him by the 

The increase of business rendered necessary 
a better and larger wharf. There was no 
other place so convenient for it as the foot of 
the street ; but before making the change he 
deemed it prudent to consult the town officers. 

The chief magistrate visited the spot with 
him, listened to his plans, nodded, and gave an 

" No, Toby ; I really don't see the slightest 
objection to what you propose. Your structure 
won't be in the way of vehicles, unless people 
want to drive into the lake, and it seems to me 
you '11 leave them plenty of room to do that. 
But I suppose you know there 's some feeling 
about your having a wharf here at all ? " 

" That 's why I thought it best to get your 
permission," said Toby. 

" As for any formal permission, that is some- 
thing we have no right to grant. There would 
be no legality about it without a vote of the 
town, and I 'm not sure but the consent of the 
county commissioners would be required ; possi- 
bly an act of the Legislature." 

" Not an act of Congress too, I hope," said 
Toby, laughing. " I had no idea so simple- 
looking a thing could be so complicated." 

" It is simple enough, if you choose to put your 
wharf here, and take your chances of its being 
allowed to remain. But when you talk of ac- 
quiring a right, that 's a different matter. An 
estabhshed highway does n't belong to individu- 
als; it belongs to the town, to the county, to 
the whole community. I can say only that 
the town authorities will not object." 

" What if anybody else ol)jects? " Toby asked 

" I 'm not much of a lawyer," the magistrate 
replied, " but I don't see what anybody's objec- 
tion can amount to, unless a complaint is entered 
and your wharf is shown to be a nuisance." 

" That 's all I care to know ! " exclaimed 

Toby. " It may not be a legal act for me to 
put it here ; but once here it will not be a legal 
act for Tom, Dick, and Harry to meddle with it." 

" Tom, Dick, and Harry," said the magistrate, 
" will have no more right to injure your proi)erty 
than they have to destroy mine, if they find my 
cart left on the sidewalk. If it is absolutely in 
their way, they can move it out of their way, 
but they will be liable for any wilful damage 
done to it. If I persist in leaving it there, they 
can make a complaint." 

" That looks like common sense, whether it is 
law or not," said Toby. 

" The law itself is only a sort of cut-and-dried 
common sense, as I understand it," said the 
town officer, turning to go. 

Toby thanked him and said, " I '11 take the 
risk. I '11 build a neat wharf here, w^ell out in the 
lake, where it will be in nobody's way, but where 
other people will find it a convenience, whether 
they use it as a boat-landing, or as a platform 
to stand on if they come to the lake for water." 

And he said to Burke, the carpenter's son : 

" Tell your father, as soon as he has a few 
minutes to spare I want to see him." 

The elder Burke came, listened to Toby's 
plan, pronounced it " likely," and, standing in a 
boat, measured with an oar the depth of water 
off the old wharf. Then he made some fig- 
ures on a chip with a bit of red chalk, and gave 
an estimate of the cost. 

" That won't break me ' " said Toby, gleefully 
conscious of accumulating profits. " When can 
you do it ? The season is short ; and my new 
boat will be here in a day or two." 

" To-morrow morning, good and early, I '11 
be on hand wdth a load of lumber and jise " 
(carpenter's word ior joists). " I '11 have a man 
to help me," said the elder ■ Burke, " and w-e '11 
try to squeeze the job into a day." 

Chapter XL. 


When Toby went home to tell what he had 
done, and to make ready for the afternoon train, 
he was amazed to see Mr. Tazw-ell coming away 
from the door. 

They could not well avoid a meeting, if 
either had wished to do so. Toby was passing 


by, with head held high and a stern look, when 
the merchant accosted him as politely as if 
there had never been the slightest unpleasant- 
ness between them. 

" I hope you are well, Toby. How are you 
getting on ? " 

" I am getting on as well as could be ex- 
pected under the circumstances," Toby an- 
swered coldly. 

" I have just been to call on your mother," 
said Tazwell, " to see about the transfer of that 
piece of property." 

" What piece of property ? " Toby asked, 
though he knew very well. 

" Why, that lake-side lot," said the smiling 
Tazwell. " You know how she acquired it : 
by foreclosing a mortgage I turned over to her. 
I promised to make the loss good ; and as the 
land is n't salable, I am now — and have been 
for some httle time — ready to take it off her 

Toby knew that, too, very well. Soon 
after the collision between him and the perse- 
cutors of the swallows on the lot in question, 
Tom's father had written Mrs. Traiiford a re- 
spectful, businesslike note, making the pro- 
posal. She was in favor of accepting it at 
once ; but by the advice of her children she 
had delayed sending an answer. 

Then Mrs. Tazwell had called, and in speak- 
ing — sincerely, no doubt, for she was a sincere 
woman — of her husband's desire to act hon- 
orably by the widow, she had reminded her of 
his offer. 

'• It is very kind of him," said the widow ; 
" and I will think it over." 

Which meant that she would once more 
consult her children. But now Tob)''s sus- 
picions were fully roused. 

'■ He has never made that offer out of mere 
good will to you, I am sure," he declared. " I 
beheve, with Mr. Allerton, that the property on 
this lake is going to rise in value within a few 
years, and that our lot will be worth more than 
it has cost us, if we can afiford to keep it. Taz- 
well has come to the same conclusion. He 
does n't want to help vou ; what he wants is 
the lot." 

Mildred would never agree with her brother 
when there was a fair opportunity for a disagree- 


ment ; but now she declared herself to be of the 
same opinion. 

" I should think everything of Mr. Allerton's 
judgment," she said, " for he seems to be a liv- 
ing refutation of the old prejudice that a man 
who knows books can know nothing else. I 
would wait a while longer." 

So the widow had waited ; and at last, in his 
neat kid gloves, and with his persuasive smile, 
Mr. Tazwell himself had come to repeat his 

'• I '11 think of it; I '11 see," was all the satis- 
faction he could get when he urged her to 
name a price for the property. And he had 
finally gone out to " waste the sweetness of his 
smiles on Toby," — so said Mildred, who watched 
him from the half-open door. 

" What did my mother say ? " Toby asked him, 
with hardly concealed disdain. 

" That in her ignorance of business she has 
done some unwise things ; and that now her son 
is getting to know more of practical matters than 
she does." 

Tazwell meant this for flattery, and watched 
for its efifect on Toby. 

" That does n't imply that I know \ery much," 
the boy answered, making a move to enter the 

The merchant laid his gloved forefinger on 
Toby's arm. 

" But you know well that the property hes 
dead on her hands ; and you must see that it 
will be much better for her to get rid of it." 

" If better for her, how will it be for you ? " 

"That 's my lookout," said the merchant ; " I 
feel bound to make up for her losses." 

" In that case," replied Toby, " suppose you 
begin with the West Quarr)' bonds that you 
turned over to her at par, and that are now 
worth about seventeen cents on the dollar." 

The merchant was seldom disconcerted : but 
this suggestion, put to him by the boy with a 
quiet smile and almost laughing eyes, made him 
color to the tips of his ears. 

•• I shall attend to them in good time — all in 
good time," he replied, and artfully glided from 
that disagreeable topic. '• I consider myself 
fortunate in being able to fulfil my obligation 
regarding the lot, in the first place. Now if a 
bonus of one hundred or even two hundred 



dollars will satisfy your mother, why, I am not 
the man to stand dickering about it." 

" Could n't you make it five hundred ? " 

Toby put this question ironically, without the 
slightest idea that Tazwell would consider it. 

" That would be an extravagant price ! 
Three hundred — or three hundred and fifty — 
1 am willing to go as high as that, considering 
all the trouble your mother has had ; but that 
is the limit." 

" Then there 's no use in talking," said Toby. 

Once more the merchant stopped him as he 
was entering the house. 

" See here, Toby, if it can be settled at once, 
I will give a bonus of five hundred dollars. 
Shall I go in with you and talk it over again 
with your mother ? " 

" I 'd rather talk it over with her alone," 
replied Toby, finally breaking away from the 
gloved finger and going in. 

He kept his emotions well under control 
until in the presence of his mother and sister, 
when he went into convulsions of laughter. 

" Over and above what the place has cost 
us! Five hundred dollars — and a month ago 
we could n't sell it at any price. If it was 
anybody but Tazwell, I should say he was 
crazy. But Tazwell ! Oh ! " 

" What can it all mean ? " asked Mildred. 

" It means that the place has a value w hich 
Tazwell sees and we don't. I can't think of 
any peculiarity about it except the old swallow- 
tree ; and he is n't the man to take any stock in 
a curiosity of that sort. I suppose that would 
soon be cut down, if he had the place. And 
that 's another objection to his having it," 
added Toby. 

" But five hundred dollars profit ! " said the 
widow. " What are we thinking of, children ? 
People will say we are the crazy ones ! " 

" Let 's be crazy, then ! " cried Toby hilari- 
ously. " I tell you, it 's fine to own some- 
thing Tazwell wants so badly that he is willing 
to hide his hatred of me and my boats and 
come to us in this fawning way ! " 

" But we must n't sacrifice our own interests 
in order to spite him," argued the widow. 

'• Oh, no ; we won't. You may be sure the 
place is worth more than he offers — if we could 
only find out his secret ! " 

" At all events," said Mildred, " let 's wait and 
see what Mr. Allerton says." 

The schoolmaster, who came often in those 
days to take tea with the family, came again 
that evening ; and he was decidedly of the opin- 
ion that Mr. Tazwell's apparent generosity 
should be examined with great caution. 

Chapter XLI. 
cats and clover. 

Fortunately, theTraffords werebetter able 
to hold the lot than they had been before Toby 
set up his business. That made Toby, for one, 
feel vastly independent ; he was so sure of 
success ! 

" To-morrow," said he, " I '11 have my new 
wharf; then in two or three days you '11 see my 
new boat in the water. I wonder what Tazwell 
will say then ? " 

The boat was to cost fifty dollars; he had 
saved money enough beyond his expenses to 
pay for it, and also for the wharf, which was to 
cost thirty dollars. No wonder his head was a 
litde turned. 

The carpenters began driving sjjiles for the 
wharf early the next morning. It was a great 
day for Toby. 

With feelings of pride and triumph he saw 
his plan, which had existed first as an idea in 
his own brain, take solid shape and plant its 
firm legs in the water. 

The wharf was built high enough to make 
room for two good-sized boats under it, and 
there were rings along each edge for lines. On 
one side, a little below the main platform, was 
a short, narrow one, that made an easy step 
from the wharf and the boats. On the other 
side, but nearer the shore, was placed a long, 
low box, in which he locked up his oars, row- 
locks, sponges, and bailers. 

It was a dull day, and perhaps that was the 
reason why there were but few passengers for 
the Springs — no more than the boy Burke 
could ferry over. Toby was not sorry, for he 
took great pleasure in helping the carpenters, 
and in seeing where every nail was driven. 

The work attracted considerable attention, 
and friendly people stopped to talk with him 
about it ; while Lick Stevens and his set passed 



by with evil glances and whisperings among 
themselves. When the men gathered their tools 
together, late in the afternoon, and went home 
to supper, the wharf was practically finished. 

Toby, too, went home to his supper, but in 
half an hour he was back again, admiring the 
structure, and clearing up the litter about it 
with rake and broom. His mother and Mil- 
dred also came down to look at it and praise it 
— with some sly pleasantries on the girl's part ; 
and later in the evening Mr. Allerton appeared. 

His approval brimmed the cup of happiness 
for Toby, who showed him how easily the two 
boats could be run into their stalls under the 
platform, and how convenient the step at the side 
would be at low water for women and children. 
Then the two sat down on the end of the wharf, 
and with their legs dangling over the lake had 
a good talk. 

Mr. Allerton had just returned from a trip to 
the city. 

•• By the way," he said, '• how was business 
to-day ? " 

" Rather poor, even for dull weather," replied 
Toby. " The omnibus got more than its share." 

" I ask," said Mr. Allerton, " because I found 
that those notices we put up in the hotels had 
been torn down." 

" Who did that, do you suppose ? " said Toby, 
surprised and angry. 

" I could n't find out. The clerks claimed to 
know nothing about it. Either the railroad 
people have used their influence to have them 
removed, or somebody has gone in and pulled 
them down without any formahty." 

'• We can put them up again," said Toby. 

" Yes ; but will they stay up ? What a piti- 
ful thing it is that one should have such enemies." 

" I 'm independent of 'em ; I '11 show them 
that before I get through ! " 

'• I don't like to hear you make so many dec- 
larations of independence," replied the school- 
master. " Nobody is independent of his ene- 
mies, or of anybody, or of anything, I might 
almost say. We are all links in a chain." 

He lifted his hat, patted his hair, and went 
on, while they both sat looking out on the star- 
less and moonless water : 

'• There is a curious story naturalists tell, 
which will show you what I mean. You 

would n't imagine, I suppose, that the quality 
of English beef, which is so celebrated, could 
depend at all upon — cats ? " 

'• I can see how cats may depend upon beef; 
not how beef can depend upon cats," said 

" I '11 tell you. The favorite food of the 
English ox is red clover. To sow clover you 
must have the seed. To have the seed the 
pollen of the blossoms must be ' mixed,' as 
gardeners say; that is, the dust of the anthers 
must be lodged upon the stigmas." 

" I know it is so with cucumber plants," said 
Toby. " If you grow them under glass, in cold 
weather, you have to go around with a little 
brush and mix the pollen, or the pickles won't 
set. I 've seen gardeners do that. But the best 
way is to have a hive of bees where in warm 
days they will find their way under the sashes 
and mix the pollen for you." 

" That is just what field bees do for the red 
clover," said Mr. Allerton; " though in a differ- 
ent way. Now there is a field-mouse that de- 
stroys the nests of the bees ; where there are 
many mice there are few bees, and the clover 
suffers in consequence." 

" I see ! " exclaimed Toby. " The cats, by 
killing the mice, give the bees a better chance ; 
so where there are the most cats there are the 
most field bees and the most clover seed." 

'•The clover makes the beef, and the beef 
nourishes the robust Englishman," the master 
added. " So he who kills a good mousing cat 
strikes a blow at the human brotherhood, and 
the keepers of cats are philanthropists. This is 
not a fancy picture ; nor is it true of Enghsh 
cats and clover alone. It is more or less true 
of life everywhere. We are parts of the uni- 
versal network of men and things. So don't 
boast of your independence. Your feeblest 
enemy may do you a great mischief. I am 
sorry you have made enemies, Tobias." 

" So am I," said Toby ; " but I can't see that 
it is all my fault." 

" I have helped you a little in getting them," 
replied Mr. .Allerton. " We might better have 
left that gun at the bottom of the lake ; and 
what was I thinking of when I gave those swal- 
lows to Tom's sister ! " — for Bertha had told 
Mildred of Tom's anger, and of the tragic fate 



of ihc birds. " But we must n't sit here any 
longer," he said, rising to his feet. 

Toby waited to see if he had left everything 
" all right." The doctor's boat and the " Milly " 
were under the wharf where they could be heard 
rocking and chafing as the light waves lapsed 
lispingly under their sides. The " Swallow " and 
the Whitehall were moored outside with lines 
made fast to the corner rings of the wharf. 

Toby put his broom into the oar-box, which 
he locked, then shouldered his rake. 

" I meant to take care of this litter to-night," 
he said, giving a poke with his foot to the pile 
of shavings, chips, and splinters and fragments 
of boards and Joists which he had gathered up 
at the shore end of the wharf. " To-morrow is 
Sunday, and it looks like rain." 

" I am afraid I have hindered you," said the 

" No," replied Toby ; " I was really too tired 
to do anything more this evening, and now it is 
too dark. If that rubbish heap gets wet it can 
get dry again." 

As they turned up Water Street they heard a 
rush of footsteps, and saw two or three figures 
glide behind a fence and disappear in the 
darkness along by the lake shore. 

Toby did not think much about this until 
after he had parted with the schoolmaster at his 
mother's gate. Then he said to himself: 

" I wish I had taken care of that rubbish ; 
but it is too late now." And he went in and 
went to bed. 

Chaptkr XLII. 
the strange light mildkeu saw. 

Fronting the street were two bedrooms, sepa- 
rated by an entry. One of these was Toby's ; 
the other, a comer room, one window of which 
looked out on the lake, was occupied by Mildred. 

She had heard Toby bid the master good- 
night at the gate, and had spoken to him as he 
passed through the U[)per entry. Soon after, 
she too retired. 

She had been an hour or two asleep, when 
she was wakened by a strange light, and 
started up, wondering what it could be. It 
evidently came in through the window that 
commanded the lake. The sash was open, but 

the blinds were clo.sed, and through the slats 
played gleams of flickering light. 

She s])rang to the window, threw open the 
blinds, and looked out on a starthng scene. 
All the lake shore w-as lighted up by the red 
glare of fire. 

She darted across the entry to call her brother. 
He was sleeping so soundly after the day's 
fatigue and excitement that it was not easy to 
rouse him. 

She glided into his room, a ilim white ghost. 

" Toby ! Toby ! " She did not speak very 
loud, for fear of alarming their mother, who 
slept in the room behind her son's. " Toby I " 
she repeated, coming to his bed and shaking 

" What is it ? " he murmured, struggling out 
of his deep slumber. 

" Get up quickly ! " she said in a wild whis- 
]jer. " Your wharf is burning ! " 

He was on his feet in a moment, stumbling 
across the floor, pulhng on his clothes. One 
look from the window^ told him the whole dire 
history. The wharf was all a sheet of fire, 
sending up flames and smoke, with a dull 
crackling roar. 

With a cry of disma), Toby withdrew his 
head, which he had thrust far out of the win- 
dow, and struggled with his garments, which 
it seemed to him never would go on. And his 
shoes — where w ere his shoes ? Never mind 
the socks 1 

'■ Keep watch," he cried to Mildred, who had 
returned to her own room, and w-as hurriedly 
dressing by the light of the fire, " and see if 
you can catch sight of anybody ! " 

" It is too late for that, I am afraid," she 
replied. " Whoever set it has had time to get 

He was rushing through the entry as he 
spoke. Down the stairs he ran, with clatter of 
feet and clash of doors, less mindful than she 
had been of their mother's rest; through the 
kitchen, where he seized a pail by the light 
that came in broadly from the lake shore ; and 
out of the house, with loud cries of " Fire ! 
Fire ! " — cries always so strange and startling in 
the middle of the night. 

•• What is it ? Where is it ? " asked Mrs. 
Traflbrd, rushing from her own room. 



'• Nobody's house." Milly answered ; " it is 
the wharf. Somebody must have set fire to the 
pile of rubbish the carpenters left." 

"The wharf! — after all Toby's trouble and 
expense ' " exclaimed the widow. " Who could 
be so cruel ? " 

The rubbish had not only been fired, it had 
first been scattered over the platform in a way 
to insure destruction of 
the whole wharf. 

A strong breeze 
fanned the flames. If 
they no longer mounted 
so high as when Toby 
first saw them from the 
window, it was because 
most of the light litter 
wasconsumed, and they 
had settled down to 
steadier work. The dry 
flooring blazed almost 
from end to end, holes 
were appearing in it, 
and flaming cinders 
were dropping down 
into the water, and into 
the boats beneath. 

The wind blew off- 
shore, but obliquely, and 
the flames were raging 
most fiercely on the side 
upon which was the 
low, narrow platform. 
On the opposite side, 
nearer the shore, the 3^ 
oar-box was quietly - — _ 

burning ; and there 
Toby began the work 
of extinction. """ ' ~' ' 

There was danger of all the boats being de- 
stroyed. Two were under the wharf. The two 
others, the " Swallow " and the Whitehall, were 
moored off the end of the platform by bow and 
stern lines that held them within a few feet of it. 

Of these the "Swallow^" was in the position 
of greatest peril. Fortunately, the attaching 
line burnt oft" before the boat became ignited, 
and allowed it to swing around with the wind 
by its bow moorings. The Whitehall had not 
yet been reached. 


^\'ith furious energy Toby cast pailful after 
pailful of water on the blazing oar-box and the 
wharf. Every splash left broad, black, smoking 
streaks where before there were curling tongues 
of fire. The box was a charred ruin, but its 
contents were sa\ed. The flames, as they were 
driven off" toward the farther side, revealed gaps 
in the flooring; but there was still hope of sav- 

or WATE]. 

ing the foundations of the wharf, and at least 
one of the boats that were still under it. 

A curious thing happened to the other boat. 
It really seemed moved by a sort of dull instinct 
to get out of its uncomfortable situation. Its 
fastenings had burnt off, and there was an 
opportunity of escape. With the wind agitat- 
ing and urging it, along by the outer row of 
posts it worked its way, and, barely clearing 
the '• Swallow " as it passed, set sail upon the 
open lake. 


It was already on fire; a sheet of flame shot before the wind. The movement was so unex- 
up from stem to stern. It was the boat Toby pected that Toby, intent on drenching the wharf, 
had bought of the doctor. Before running it did not notice it until the boat was well off shore, 
under the wharf that evening, he had laid in it, Then to attempt to save it would have been to 
the " Swallow's " mast, with the sail wrapped abandon the " Milly," which was under the plat- 
around it. Flakes of falling cinders had ignited form and perhaps already on fire. And the 
rails and thwarts, and the roll of canvas seemed farther side of the flooring, with the timbers 
to unfold into another sail, all of flame, driving under it, was still in flames. 


Bv Robert Underwood Johnson. 

One twilight was there when it seemed 
New stars beneath young eyelids gleamed; 

In vain the warning clock would creep 
Anear the hour of beauty-sleep ; 

In vain the trundle yearned to hold 
Far-Eyes and litde Heart-of-Gold ; 

And Love that kisses are the stuff of 
At last for once there was enough of. 

As though of all Affection's round 
The fond climacteric had been found — 

Each childish fancy heaping more. 
Like spendthrift from a miser store, 

Till — stopped by hug and stayed by kiss — 
The sweet contention ran like this : 

' How much do I love you ? " (I remember but part 
Of the words of the troth of this lover) 

• I love you" — he said — "why — I love you — a heart 
Brimful and running over. 

■ I love you a hundred ! " said he with a squeeze; 
" A thousand ! " said she as she nestled ; 
' A million ! " he cried in triumphant ease, 
While she with the numbers wre.stled. 

' Aha 1 I have found it I " she shouted, " Aha ! " 
(The red to the soft cheeks mounting) 

' I love you — I love you — I love you, Papa, 
Over the last of the counting ! " 

H\ UiivN Raii'm 

I SUPPOSE every 
natural, healthy 
boy has a keen ap- 
petite for books and stories 
of travel and adventure. I 
suppose they all envy such ex- 
plorers as Stanley and such hunters as Cum- 
ming. The feeling does not end with boyhood, 
for I find that if you come to know the most 

" I don't believe you can do it." 

'• Why not ? " I asked. I was so astonished. 

" Because you can't stand ' the racket,' " said he. 

There was no need for me to reply that I was 
strong, healthy, sound, and with at least ordinary 
pluck, fair nerves, and a strong digestive appara- 
tus. He knew that as well as I. 

" I believe that hunters are born, not made," 
said he ; " at least, what I mean is that if they 

sedate and busiest men, wrapped up in the affairs have not roughed it from boyhood there is no 

of stores and offices, underneath their gray hairs use in their trjing to rough it in manhood. You 

you will discover that they often think of how have no idea what you are thinking of under- 

they would have enjoyed seeing new countries, taking. To live the life of men in a rough coun- 

hunting wild animals, and fishing in rivers where try, you must have a body like india-rubber, 

great fish are swarming. But I wonder how without fat or extra flesh, with supple muscles 

many boys ever think of the price such pleasures and hard substance. You must have lungs that 

cost — I do not mean the cost in money, but will serve you as long as you call on them — 

in discomfort, hardship, fatigue, and pain. I that is the most important thing of all. You 've 

wonder how many grown-up men realize that got 'sand' enough" (he meant courage and pride 

they could not possibly endure or go through an and earnestness by that one word), " but what 

ordinary hunting adventure in a rough country, good is all the ' sand ' in the world if your wind 

It happened that, a year ago, I was asked to gives out when you are running away from a 

go into the wildest regions I could find in order grizzly, or trying to climb a mountain two miles 

to describe the hunting of big game and the straight up in air, or when an Indian whom you 

catching of what are called " game fish." I could break in two across your knee asks you 

had always possessed a city boy's fondness for to follow him on a dog-trot for ten miles at 

the country and had enjoyed rural life for at a stretch over a rough countr)- ? What would 

least a short time every year since the days when any one give for your pluck if your breath stops 

I was at boarding-school. I had fished in the short, and your muscles relax, and you have to 

St. Lawrence, gone bird-shooting in the woods sit down and rest when everything depends on 

and mountains near New York, had camped your going straight ahead ? " 

out half a dozen times, and had even been deer- I could not understand what he meant, any 

hunting in what I thought were wild districts, more than any reader of this who has not tried 

Nevertheless, when I sought a true hunter and what we talked of can understand it ; but I was 

told him what I was about to undertake he ver)- enthusiastic and very much in earnest, so 

looked me all over (though he knew me very I persisted that he was wrong. The hunter 

well), and he said : ended the talk by paying me a very high com- 


]ilimcnt, whicli 1 only mention because I did 
not tieserve it and because it will show how 
thoroughly serious he was in his belief that 
" not every soft man can endure a hard time," 
as he put it. He found all his talk was to 
no purpose, and then he said, " Well, all that I 
can say is that if any man who can't do it can 
do it, you are the man." 

One day, nearly two years afterwards, a very 
kind friend in Vancouver, British Columbia, de- 
clared that, if I would say the word, he would 
get me two Indians who would guarantee that I 
should kill a mountain goat within three days. 
It was a very tempting oft'er. The mountain 
goat and the " big horn, " or Rocky Mountain 
sheep, are rapidly disappearing, and their capture 
offers a sport which all hunters covet. In a very 
few years from now it will seem a great deal (to 
one who loves hunting) to be able to say that 
he has killed a mountain goat. But I had 
just come from a very rough experience in the 
Selkirk mountains, I was sore and tired, and I 
had learned what " mountain work " means. 
I knew that in order to capture the mountain 
goat you must hunt down the mountain, that is 
to say, you must ascend to the top and Avork 
your way down, as the goats \vill always run up 
when hunted and if you are below them you 
will be sure to be left below them. " No, thank 
you," said I ; " some other time I will accept 
your offer." 

In the best hunting districts in British Co- 
lumbia, and in all that vast region north of the 
setded parts of Canada, the wilderness is mainly 
as Nature left it. You travel either along a 
" trail " through the woods, or in a canoe on the 
rivers and lakes ; seven-tenths of your time you 
cannot take a horse and do not want one, and 
unless you are a " make-believe hunter," like 
the rich noblemen of Europe who expect to 
have their work done for them and their game 
driven before their guns, you must take your 
full share of the hardship. By that I mean the 
work, the exposure, the fortunes of the chase, 
and the discomfort of living where the food is 
the simplest ; water is often hard to find, a 
blanket forms your bed, a few boughs are your 
shelter, and cold, heat, insects, duckings, dirt 
and sprains come as they will. .\ny one of a 
dozen causes may prevent your making a fire, 


and many and many a man has had to walk vio- 
lently to and fro a whole night, after an exhaust- 
ing day, to keep from freezing to death. But the 
contingencies — that is to say, the possibilities 
that go hand in hand with roughing it — are far 
too numerous to set down here. I met a civil- 
engineer last summer who started out for a three 
months' walk over the Rockies. After a time, 
when he was hundreds of miles from any settled 
place or house he slipped on a rock beside a 
mountain torrent and lost his bacon, his tea, his 
knife, and, in fact, all his outfit except a coffee 
pot and his gun and ammunirion. Think what 
a plight that left him in ! Another man told 
me he started out with a companion to make a 
day's journey in the mountains on snowshoes. 
The tw^o were within half a mile of one another. 
One went through a narrow pass, and in a 
few minutes heard a crashing noise and, look- 
ing behind, saw that a vast body of snow 
had fallen from the side of the mountain, filling 
the pass and burying his companion beyond 
human help. 

But those things one can take into account. 
The chances of a boat's upsetting, of a horse's 
stumbling, of a gun's bursting, of wettings and 
freezings and snow-slides and encounters with 
animals — you must take the risk of them cheer- 
fully. And let me add that I have often heard 
soldiers, explorers, and hunters say that in 
the matter of pluck the city boy and man can 
oftener be relied upon to show plenty than 
country folks can. That is difficult to account 
for, but it has often been said, by men who have 
tried all sorts of their fellows in emergencies, 
that there is more will and moral strength and 
a greater store of reserved courage in city-bred 
than in country-bred persons. However, there 
are occasions when the trials of wild life out of 
doors demand some things that the country boy 
possesses more often and in greater degree than 
most city boys — these are wind, strength, and 
hardened flesh and muscles. 

When I look back upon one terrible climb I 
made in the Selkirk mountains it seems to me 
beyond belief that any physical exercise should 
be so difficult. It amounted to climbing for 
hours up a flight of stairs formed of boulders, 
no two of which were of a size. They " teetered " 
and rolled about and were sometimes too far 



apart, while at other times they were so big that constant so long as we traveled ; and this was 
it took a deal of work and trouble to get over whenever we hunted or fished or went even a 
them at all. And once in a while there would few steps away from the trail on any errand 
be one that you would scarcely expect a fly to whatsoever. When snow deeply covers such 
climb up, to say nothing of the oozy, greasy bits a country, as it did where I once hunted the 
of vertical earth up which I had to hoist myself moose in Ontario, all the roughness of wilder- 
by the help of twigs, bushes, branches, and ness travel is increased tenfold. It was humili- 
tree-trunks. When I breathed, it was as if there ating and vexing to have to ask the long-legged, 
was only a teaspoonful of air in my lungs, and quick-footed Indians to halt every now and then, 
the sun shone so hot through the clear, thin air but I had to do it to get my breath, 
that I was wet with perspiration. The air was I found a new way to tax my lungs last sum- 
so clear that objects apparently close at hand mer. It came in the course of paddling up a 
proved to be half an hour away, and the climb- swift stream in a birchbark canoe. The straight- 
ing reached on and up until a walk of thirty forward paddling was tiresome enough, but it 
miles on level ground was as nothing beside it. was not all straightforward. Here and there 

With the loss of breath all the strength in my the river bottom would sink and the water would 
body seemed to leave me. Of course I sat down roar over rocks in its bed. At such places 
— forty times. I think I must have sat down the Indians would take advantage of the " set 
if a mountain lion were after me. 
On my return I tried to cross a 
glacier — a vast frozen river of ice. 
It looked dirty and rough and as 
if it offered easy walking, but the 
dirt proved to be slippery, greasy 
mud, and the ice beneath it was 
smooth and wet, and there were aw- 
ful blue and green cracks all about, 
hke hungry mouths, big enough 
to swallow up an entire regiment. 
I fell and slid many times; and 
at last, worn out, bruised, wet to 
the skin, and grimed with mud, I 
turned and made my way to solid 
earth by crushing the rotten ice be- 
neath my heels to get a purchase 
for each step. 

Yet that was only like every other 
adventure in the mountains. On 
the forest " trail," or path made by 
felling trees, any one could travel, 
but whatever we wanted to do 
forced us to leave the trail, and then 


came the hard work, the slippmg, 

the climbing, the slow fighting through bushes back " and we would glide along a litde way 

and thorns, the missteps and falls, the awful tax without work, but there was always one point, 

upon one's lungs. Creeping vines caught our of course, where we must force the boat against 

feet and threw us heavily, rotten tree-trunks the full, strong, swift current. Ah, then came a 

broke beneath us, muddy jilaces swallowed up tug-of-war ! We would fight the current with 

a too venturesome leg now and then, twigs tore strong, vicious stabs of our paddles, full sixty to 

our hats off — sometimes these happenings were the minute. The perspiration would flow, the 





would gr 
and th 

short, the muscles would 
boat woulil stand as still as it" 

endurable. These were mosquitoes and black- 
Hies. They bit us as a Gatling-gun shoots or 
as grains of peijper shake out 
of a castor. In half an hour 
I was red hot, smarting all over, 
covered with lumjjs, itching as 
if I had been rubbed with poison- 
ivy. And yet I wore a calico 
bag over my head with a little 
apron on it to cover my neck, 
my face was smeared with 
pennyroyal, tar, and grease, 
and I sat in the .smoke of a 
•' smudge " or fire covered with 
grass and green leaves. It was 
nearly night and we put up a 
tent and filled it with smoke, 
then closed it tight and passed 
the flame of a candle all over the 
canvas walls to bum up the 
mosquitoes and flies that were 
resting there. We slept well 
and next morning essayed to 
fish. It was of no use. The 
insects almost drove us wild. 
There was no reason why we 

it were pinned between rocks. There was no 
time to think, no breath to speak with — noth- 
ing to do but to fight with desperation. Jab, 
jab, jab with the paddles we went, like men 
fighting for life, one minute, two minutes, four 
minutes, then — ah! the boat shot ahead, and 
we fell back in our places, limp, breathless, 
spent, sore, fagged out. 

We fought that stream all one day and for 
worse than nothing. When we got to the best 
fishing ground it looked precisely as if it was 
snowing. Billions of tiny white moths filled 
the air above the river, and were driven along 
before the breeze, hurrying forward, yet stead- 
ily sinking to cover the river as with snow. 
They were trout-flies, and were in such numbers 
as you never saw anything but sand grains or 
snowflakes. Yet in that same air were other 
things, unseen until we landed, that proved so 
frightful and vicious as to render life itself un- 

should endure the torture. We packed u]) our 
things and started back to the frontier, chased 
out of the forest by these winged imps. We 
saw some Indians " packing " freight over a 




" portage " or neck of land between the river 
and a lake. Wondering how they could stand 
the pests, we paddled over to see them. They 
were in misery. Their faces and hands were 
swollen and their necks were raw and bleeding. 
We gave them our next to worthless bottle of 
" mosquito frightener," and their gratitude well 
repaid us. 

But these are only incidents. Whoever tries 
roughing it must sleep out of doors ; must ex- 
pect to spend days of idleness in wretched habi- 
tations if there is crust on the snow or some other 
interference with hunting ; must fare only on 
bacon and flapjacks and tea, without complain- 
ing; must endure heat, rain, sleet, bitter cold, 
thunder-storms and loneliness ; must climb and 
toil ; must carry a gun and a pack of food which 

drag like lead ; must work as no laborer ever 
had to work ; must walk interminable distances ; 
must be up by daybreak at the latest, and so 
on, through all the long category of the danger- 
ous, disagreeable, and uncomfortable things that 
go to make up such a life. 

The bright side of the subject you have all 
read. It is not exaggerated. When you come 
upon your game you forget all it has cost. When 
a four-pound trout is on your hook every fiber 
of your body thrills with pleasure. When you 
break a routine of bacon and flour with your 
first venison, or your first trout, you enjoy that 
meal as few kings ever enjoyed theirs. But it 
is not all fun; it is not a sixth part of it fun. 
And it is well to remember that it is not every- 
body who can stand it. 

jexw &. picture of my^selj 

'yvll areJvSea in v/Klte 
llov/. , 

ye I 

I think I Jee wKy people \,^<j; 

1 yff/ V\ 

TKe funny little [ellov/1 

■ A ■ queer little boy in ihe month ot lune, 
I I""? ^ swinq for himself from the points of the moon, 
I je swung and Swung till the moon grew round, 

^^^Jhen lhe rope slipped off, and he Fell 1o the ground. 




Bv John Osbornk. 

What a wonder-land for warlike imaginings 
is that little island in Newport Harbor called the 
" Torpedo Station." On it are but a few insig- 
nificant buildings; but in them is made nearly 
all the gun-cotton used in the United States 

Gun-cotton ! It seems a peaceful name for a 
terrible explosive. How innocent it appears, 
done up in little round cakes. And yet that 
peaceful looking cotton is ready at the touch of 
the electric spark, or the slightest blow of a ham- 
mer, to rend great rocks or masses of metal that 
would resist three times the weight in powder. 

Near the long, low buildings in which gun- 
cotton is manufactured, but separated from 
them by the massive walls of an old-time forti- 
fication, is the machine-shop of the station. 
Above the shop are lecture-rooms, and storage 
places for the various kinds of torpedoes used in 
the past. The specimens run from a model of 
David Bushnell's original torpedo, designed to 
blow up a British man-of-war in the Revolution, 
down to the types used in the great rebellion ; 
and there are even working models of the kinds 
which will probably be used in the future wars 
of our country, should there be need of them. 

In the large and well lighted lecture-room, 
those officers of our navy who are selected to 
•• study up " this subject and become experts in 
handling these dangerous implements of war, 
frequently gather for instruction. Here they see 
not only plans and charts, but the real models 
themselves. The various methods of anchor- 
ing, buoying, floating, towing, or propelling tor- 
pedoes are carefully explained to them here. 
They learn also what substances make up the 
many deadly explosives used, and are taught to 
handle the wires, batteries, and other means ot 
exploding them. 

In the broad, beautiful bay, whereon the sun- 
light shimmers beneath the station windows, the 
•classes lay mines and countermines, or send 
Vol.. XVIIT.— 54. r 

the swift movable torpedoes tearing through the 
water in search of an imaginary enemy. 

In the center aisle of the lecture-room, and 
hanging from the ceiling, are short portions of 
booms or spars bearing torpedoes on their ends. 
They are all large, ponderous, and black, and 
point down at you in so realistic a way that 
one looks anxiously about, fearing that a few- 
may have caps on and be loaded. Some are 
round, some are cylindrical, others are oval ; 
some are like great conical cans, others yet 
are pear-shaped. 

On the floor, to the left, is a " mushroom 
torpedo," made to lie at the bottom of a bay, 
where a ship must pass over it. Beyond it is 
one shaped just like a great sunfish, with a tail- 
like rudder, and attachments known as side 
elevators, looking like fins. This is made to be 
towed by a chain fastened to a ring in what may 
be called its nose ; and upon little rods sticking 
from its snout are caps, the touching of which 
means destruction. 

On the right of the room is a reel on which 
is wound a long line. The line is to tow and 
direct the queer-looking towing-torpedo just 
beyond it, with the iron handle upturned. Next 
to this lies a " union," an arrangement from which 
a number of wires can diverge to a like number 
of torpedoes. The torpedoes can then be set otif 
" in battery" or separately. 

The long, white, pointed torpedoes are more 
modern, and are known as " Fish," " Log," 
and " Whitehead." Some of these are propelled 
by electric engines in the torpedo, connected 
to the shore by a wire which is paid out. Some 
of the torpedo engines work by soda-gas. In 
another sort, the machinery is kept in motion 
by a wire which is continually pulled from the 
coil in the torpedo by on shore. The coil 
being thus revolved turns the machinery of the 
torpedo, so the harder you pull the faster it goes 
from )ou. Yet another is propelled by a heavy 


iron wheel, which, revolving at wonderful speed, whole purpose of each device is to be quiet, 
is set spinning in the hollow torpedo shell, stealthy, obedient, and, above all, effective in 
and by gear-wheels operates the pro])eller. This action. 

fly-wheel runs a long time. Perhaps you have The entire collection is wonderfully interest- 
seen toy locomotives run by the same method, ing and instructive, but each of the terrible 
In fact, surrounding the visitor all kinds and machines, although unloaded, has a certain 
shapes and sizes of queer-looking objects can dangerous air which is likely to give a timid 
be seen ; but they are all torpedoes, and the visitor the " creeps." 


By W. S. Reeh 

Bow your little heads, daisies white, daisies white ; Lift your little heads, daisies white, daisies white. 

Bow your little heads, purple clover. And open all your eyes, purple clover. 

And shut your eyes up tight, for soon it will be For the sun is coming uji to cover you with 

night — light. 

The sun sets, and day-time is over. And to tell vou that the night-time is over. 


By L. E. Stofiel. 

The merry bobolink is one of the prettiest 
song-birds in the country. In Eastern Pennsyl- 
vania, along the Delaware, the bobolink is known 
as the " reed-bird," and is eagerly hunted by 

You must likewise know that the bobolink 
has a third name — "rice-bird." That is what 
it is called in the Southern States. It is so 
named because it attacks the rice-fields and de- 
vours the grain. We of the North know little 
of the trouble it causes by this especial appetite. 
The magnitude of the depredations of the little 
bobolink can hardly be appreciated outside of 
the narrow belt of rice-fields along the coasts 
of a few of the Southern States. In innumer- 
able hosts the birds visit the fields at the time 
of planting in spring, eating the seed-grain be- 
fore the fields are " flooded," and then fly back 
north into Pennsylvania, New York, and New 
England, where they spend the summer. About 
the middle of August they commence to migrate 
south again, and swoop down upon the rice- 
fields once more, just at the time of harvesting 
the crop. What rice escaped in the spring now 
has little hope of surviving, for as the grain ma- 
tures the birds pick it off in the face of the most 
desperate opposition. 

To prevent total destruction of the crop dur- 
ing these invasions, thousands of men and boys, 
called " bird-minders," are employed by the 
rice-planters ; hundreds of thousands of pounds 
of gunpowder are burned, and millions of birds 
killed. Still the number of bobolinks invading 
the rice-fields each year seems in no way di- 
minished, and the aggregate annual loss they 
cause is estimated by Dr. C. Hart Merriman, 
Ornithologist of the United States Department 
of Agriculture, at $2,000,000. 

One of the largest rice-growers in South Car- 
olina, Captain W. M. Hazzard, of Annandale, 
tells these interesting facts : 

My plantation records will show that in tlie past ten 
years the rice-birds come punctually on the night of the 

2 1 St of August. All night their chirp can be heard 
passing over our summer-house. On the next three 
nights millions of these birds make their appearance, 
and settle down on our rice-fields. From that time un- 
til the 25th of September our every effort is to save the 
crop. Men, women, and boys are posted with guns and 
ammunition, one to every four or five acres, and shoot daily 
an average of about one quart of powder to a gun. This 
firing commences at the dawn of day, >and is kept up un- 
til sunset. During the bird season we employ ,ibout 
one hundred bird-minders on this plantation, who slioot 
from three to five kegs of powder, of twenty-five pounds 
each. Add to this the cost of shot and caps, and you 
may know at what an enormous expense our fight with 
the bobolink is kept up. After all the waste of money, 
our loss of rice seldom falls below five bushels per acre, 
and through these pests of birds, rice-culture is rendered 
a hazardous speculation. 

Between spring and late summer, when the 
bobolink is at the North, he displays none of 


these ruinous ways of his. He is all beauty 
and music. Sometimes he may plunder a corn- 
field slightly, but in Pennsylvania he is not 
guilty even of that slight offense. He is known 
on the farms of the North only as a bird 
showy in his dress of black, white, and yellow- 
feathers. The song of the bobolink is a pecu- 
liar, rapid, jingling, indescribable medley of 
sounds, started first by one bird, quickly fol- 
lowed by another and another, until the whole 
flock are engaged in a grand concert. Then, 
suddenly, without any apparent reason, they 



all, at the same instant, stop. These delightful 
choral concerts endear them to the farmer boys 
and girls of Pennsylvania. The " mellow, me- 
tallic chink " the birds utter has given tliem 
a name to imitate their song — " bob-o-link." 
When the birds mate, the male appears to lose 
his vocal powers, and is heard to utter only a 
sharp, clinking note, like that of the female. 
And when they settle down to plundering a 
rice-field, they seem to have lost all their mel- 
ody, for then they can only chirp. 

Another strange thing about the bobolink is 
that he loves the darkness of night. They 
only migrate, or travel, at night. They winter 
in the AV'est Indies, where they get so fat that 

the natives have given them a fourth name — 
the " butterbirds." 

Now, you know the habits of this masquera- 
ding little warbler. On his spring journey from 
the West Indies north, he robs the rice-fields of 
the Carolinas as they are being planted. Then 
he flies from justice to find a refuge in Pennsyl- 
vania and the North, where he suddenly puts 
on a quaint, coquetting air of sweetness, and 
wins the admiration and love of all who come 
within the sound of his voice. Then, suddenly, 
he takes on an evil mood, clothes it with dark- 
ness, and flies back to the rice-fields, where he 
spreads desolation all around, and increases the 
cost of rice in the cities of the North. 


By C. p. Cranch. 

' .\h, will you, will you," sings the thrush. 

Deep in his shady cover, 
■ Ah, will you, will you live with me, 

And be my friend and lover ? 

• With woodland scents and sounds all day, 

And music we will fill you. 
For concerts we will charge no fee. 
Ah, will you — will )ou — will you ? " 

Dear hidden bird, full oft I 've heard 
Your pleasant invitation ; 

-\nd searched for you amid your boughs 
With fruitless observation. 

Too near and yet too far you seem 

For mortals to discover. 
You call me, yet I cannot come, — 

And am your hopeless lover. 

Like all that is too sweet and fair, 
I never may come near you. 

Your songs fill all the summer air ; 
I only sit and hear you. 



'^♦1 '^;-^ 

I EFT bH HI N P" "AM? FALL t" 




By Laura K. Richards. 

I. from EDITH, THE ELDEST. She Starts whenever they scream (and you know 

Bywood, Mass., July 2. Agatha cannot //Vv' without screaming!) and asks 

Dearest Mama : We arrived safely last whether " the litde one is injured." I do hojje 

night. The little ones were pretty tired after they will be good, and I know they mean to be. 

the long stage-ride, but this morning they are Mammy, darling, of course I think of you every 

as bright as buttons, and have gone to pick day in the hour, as Phil used to say. It seems 

wild flowers in the meadow. Cousin Eunice very strange, does n't it ? for us all to be scattered 

seemed glad to see us, and is rery kind, though so, when we have never before been separated. 

I think perhaps she is not much used to children. But we can all be together, as you said, in think- 



ing of Papa and each other. I try to remem- 
ber all the things you said, and I do hope I 
shall be able to keep the little ones well and 
happy. How is our precious Baby ? The moun- 
tain air will be so good for him, and for you, 
too ; you seemed so pale and tired, as I looked 
out of the car window. My own Mammy ! You 
will take the very best care of yourself — won't 
you ? You know you promised. Next time I 
will tell you all about this lovely place; but 
Agatha wants to write now, and I must rule 
a piece of paper for her. Always and always, 
dearest Mammy, 

Your very loving child, Edith. 


Dear Mammy : Ther is a cow her. And three 
pigs, and one is awl blak and one is awl whit 
and one is spoted. They skweel. I can skweel 
just lik them, but Cusin Unis dosnt lik it. She 
is nis, she gave me gam on my bread. I am 
very wel. I hop you are very well. Edith is 
wel too. She sais I mustnt do things a good eel 




July 3- 
Dear Mama : Edith and Agatha wrote 
yesterday, so it is my turn to-day. This is a 
lovely place, and I like it very much, only I 
wish you and Baby and Phil were here. Cousin 
Unice is funny and kind, and Vesta is funny, 
too. Vesta is the girl. I think she must be 
about a hundred. She calls me " Child of Mor- 
tality ! " whenever I drop anything or tumble 
down. I have n't broken anything yet, but I 
fell down stairs yesterday, and dropped my hair- 
ribbon down the well this morning. Cousin 
Unice thinks I must be weakly, and wants to 
give me some kind of medicine that an old 
Indian used to make, but Edith told her I 
always fell down and dropped things. We 
have not been down to the beach yet, but Edith 
is going to take us soon. There is an old yel- 
low horse called " Buckskin," and Cousin Unice 
says I may ride on him sometimes, when he 
is not hauling. They say " hauling " here for 

To-morrow is Fourth of July, and we shall 
not have any fireworks, but we don't mind 
much. I have n't written any poetry yet, dear 
Mammy, but I feel as if I should soon. There 
are pine trees near the house, and when the 
wind blows through them it makes me feel like 
poetry. There is a rock on the beach, and an- 
other girl and I play it is a camel, and we have 


but I will be good be coz dear Papa is dead. It fine rides on it, for the grass is thin and short and 

is a pity he is dead. Edith sais I must not say pinkish, and the sand does very well for a desert, 

that but I wil be coz it Is a pity. Ther is a see- Edith is going to lend me her shawl for a caftan, 

saw too. I lik it. So good bi from Agatha. and then we will have a sand-storm, and we 


may kill the camel to get water out of him, 
but I am not sure yet. Now, good-by dear 
Mammy, from May. 


Pumpkin House, Montana, July lo. 
Dear Mama : I have n't written before. 


times ; but I kick his shins under the table when- 
ever he does it. He does n't make them very 
often, now. 

There are some woods near the house that 
remind me of home, and I walk there often. I 
have a tree-toad, and am taming it for May. 
I found it on a tree, and it was exactly the 

because I have been looking about me ; you 
know you have to, when you go to a strange 
place. Uncle James had n't any name for the 
place, so I call it Pumpkin House, after that 
story of the two children who found a big pump- 
kin and lived in it, because it is bright yellow. 
I mean the house is. Uncle James is out on 
the farm all day, and so is Ned, and Aunt Caro- 
line is sick. I fought with Ned yesterday because 
he said that I was nothing but a tenderfoot. 
It was about even, but I think I shall lick him 
ne.xt time, because I am practising with a bag 
of hay in the bam. I hang it from a beam and 
punch it. He makes faces at me at table some- 

color of the bark. Then I brought it home in 
my pocket, and when I took it out it was nearly 
white. I put it in my bureau drawer, and when 
the girl was putting away my clean clothes, it 
jumjied out and scared her, and she screamed 
like a house afire. She is a stupid girl, any 
way ; but Aunt Caroline said I must take it out 
to the bam, or her nerves would be destroyed. 
I have found two or three strange moths — one 
of them a beauty, only I had to set them with 
common pins, for I forgot my butterfly pins. If 
you should go to Boston, will you jilease go to 
the shop and get me a box and sentl it ? I 
chloroformed them. 






I must stop now. I hope Baby is all right 
again. Your affectionate son, 

Philip Strong. 
v. from edith. 

BvwooD, July 20. 
OwNEST Mama : First I will say that May 
and Agatha are both sitting here beside me, as 
good as kittens, shelling peas ; and then I will 
tell you what a fright we had yesterday about 
May. I thought .she was with Cousin Eunice 
(she was when I left her), and Cousin Eunice 
thought she had come to me; but when dinner- 

time came, the child was not to be found. Oh \ 
Mamma dear, you can imagine how I felt. We 
hunted the whole house, from garret to cellar! 
We ran through the orchard and garden, calling 
and .shouting. Dear Cousin Eunice was so 
kind, and kept thinking of one place and then 
another; but there was no sign of May. Aga- 
tha thought it was only fun, and kept singing, 

" She fell 

Down llie welll 
Down the well 
She fell ! ' 



which did n't make me feel any better. Oh, 
dear ! At last a neighbor came in with some 
vegetables, and said he had seen a little girl 
with a pink frock running about in the meadow 
by the cliffs. Then my heart went down, and 
all my strength seemed gone for a moment ; 
but next minute I thought of you, and then I 
fiew ! I could n't call, for my voice seemed 
all dried up in my throat ; I just looked and 
looked, as I ran. I came to the meadow, and 
saw the cliffs, and the sea shining so blue and 
calm, and thought — but never mind what I 
thought. Mama dear. Just then I saw a spot 
of pink in the grass, quite near the edge of the 
cliff. I don't know how I got to it, but I did, 
and — Mammy ! there was that child, lying 
down, as comfortable and quiet as if she were 
on the sofa at home. And when I came up, 
panting and gasping, and dropped on the grass 
beside her, she just looked up, with the " com- 
position" look in her great blue eyes, and said : 

" There is n't any good rhyme to ' silver,' is 
there, Edith ? " 

Well, I could n't do anything but cry. Of 
course it was very silly. Mammy darling, and I 
knew it all the time, but I suppose it was only 
natural. I could n't speak to tell May of our 
fright, and May, of course, did n't know what 
was the matter, and thought I had had bad news 
from you ; and altogether it was a bad moment. 
But it is all right now. Mammy, and you may 
be sure it will iiever happen again, for I shall 
hardly let the child go out of my sight. I 
suppose she ought to have been punished, but 
yet — well, she had no idea that she was doing 
wrong, and I remembered dear Papa's " If the 
intention is good, never mind the result ! " so I 
only explained to her what the danger was, 
and what a terrible fright we were in. Cousin 
Eunice talked to her, too, so wisely and sweetly ! 
We all love her dearly. But old Vesta shook 
her head, and said : "Child of Mortality, ye 'd 
oughter be spanked and put to bed ! " and then 
gave us apple-turnovers all round, because we 
had " had a turn." 

Your letter made us all happy next morn- 
ing, and since Baby is well, and you rested and 
quiet, everything looks bright. Yes, dear, we 
are very happy here ! A lovely, lovely place, 
flowers, and fields, and fresh air, and berries, 


and the sea, and such girat kindness ! Only, 
of course, I do miss you dreadfully, and there 
would be no use in saying I did n't, because 
you would know better. Then — there is one 
thing more ! I fear poor dear Phil is not happy 
in Montana. His letters are rather blue, and 1 
tlon't think he gets on well with Uncle James's 
family. Could he possibly come here. Mammy 



BvwooD, July 20. 
Dearest Mama : I am very sorry they 
were frightened about me, but, of course, I 
should n't have fallen over the cliffs, so there 
was n't really an)' danger. I wanted to make a 
little song about the sea, so I went to look at it 
and be near it. I wish I could find a rhyme 


dear? Cousin Eunice says she would like to for "silver," but I can't, except "delver," and 

have him. Tea-time now, so good-by, my own of course that won't do. I wanted to begin 

dearest. Kiss our blessed Babv twenty thousand „ j, ... , ., ,, 

- ■' " Sailing on a sea of silver, 

times for his and your Edith. 

P. S. — I have finished " The Old Regime in but I had to give it up, .so 1 made this instead : 
Canada," and am beginning " Pontiac." Oh, 

„ . , , ... -Nt r. 1 If I had a little lioat. 

how interesting it all is 1 Is n t Mr. Parkman , , , ., , , , , a . 

° 1 would sail and 1 would float 

a gn-al historian ? Everything is so clear, and j j^e a rover proud and free, 

so thrilling. I want to read all his books. All across the silver sea. 



I would chase the monstrous shark, 
I would hear the dog-fish bark, 
All the whales would spout for me. 
Sailing on the silver.sea. 

Do you think that is pretty good ? I 
wanted to make a third verse, but I 
have n't been able to yet. 

We had a circus this morning. I 
rode on Buckskin, and I was the Em- 
press of the Arena, and my name was 
Donna Inez Wolfordinez, like the ballad. 
I wore Edith's red petticoat, and Cousin 
Eunice lent me a lovely blue scarf to 
wave, and a boy named Bob, who does 
the chores, cracked the whip. Edith 
held Agatha on Bounce (Bounce is the 
dog), and she was the Infant Fenominon 
(is that right) ? but Bounce lay down 
a good deal, so we tried the lamb, and he 
did a little better, only he was pretty slow. 
It was great fun! I must stop now, so 
good-by with love from May. 


Der Mamv : May dropt Ella into the pig sty, 
so we said she shuld be the pigs' dolly. Was n't 
that funny ? she had only one leg, and both 

her arms was lost and her hed was broke, so 
we did n't care, but the pigs tr)-d to eet her and 
I skweeled, so Bob took her out. Bob made 
me a cart it is panted red it has too weels 
he sais I must be a boocher but I want to be a 


tin pan man. He cam her yesty C!usn Unis bort 
sum tin pans they are brite and she bort me a 
plate with al fib bits on it. So now I will 
say good bi. Good bi from .Agatha. 


August I. 
Dearest Mama: 1 hope you will not be 
angry when I tell you that I have run away. 
I shall not sentl this till I have nearly got to 
Bywood, because I don't want you to be fright- 
ened. I could n't stay there any longer. That 
Ned was a perfect terror. He said that bats 
were birds, and when I said they were n't he said 
I lied and I knocked him down and made his 
nose bleed and broke one of his front teeth. 
( I 'm sorry for that, but it could n't have been 
much of a tooth.) So Uncle James said he 
would flog me before all the farm hands, and I 
would n't stand that, so I ran away. You know 
he is n't my real uncle at all, and even if his 
first wife was my aunt I don't see what right he 
would have to do that. Do you ? I am certain 
he had not. ^Vhen I got a good way from the 
farm I hired out to a man to tend windmill. It 
was great fun ! You have to oil it, and regulate 
the speed, and watch the troughs. And just 
think ! one day I saw Uncle James, and I suj)- 
pose he was looking for me, so I hid behind 
the sail, and he went right by and never saw 
me. I caught a gopher, and novv he is so tame 
he stays in my pocket or sits on my shoulder. 
I did it while I was tending the mill. The man 
was very kind. In about a week he had to go 
to Chicago, on business, and I went with him. 
1 had all the money you had given me for my 
fare back. He gave me — I mean the man did 

— (juite a sum of money, and his wife gave me 
such a lot of nice grub — I beg pardon! I 
mean food — to take with me, and a note to 
some other people on the way (they had a boy 
just my age who died, and ihey wanted to keep 
me, but of course I could n't stay), and so I 
had a splendid time. I '11 tell you all about my 
journey, when I see you again. But at Chicago 
I found Uncle Dick just starting for the, 
and he took me with him to New York. The 
rest was easy enough, and I .shall get to Bywood 
sometime to-morrow. So good-by, dear Mammy, 
with love from Philip Strong. 


To Mrs. John Strong, Bethlehem, N. H. 
Phil arrived last night. All well and happy. 
See letter. Edith Strong. 


BvvvooD, Aug. 3. 
Dearest Dear Mama : Please don't mind ! 
\Ve are all together, and we are so happy ! 
Phil looks splendidly well, and Cousin Eunice 
is delighted with him. She is writing to you 
herselt", but this is just a little line from all of 
us, to say how glad we are, and how jolly it is, 
and how we do hope you won't mind. 

— Oh!!! Your letter has just come, saying 
that you and Baby will be here in three days. 
Oh! Mama, Mama! it seems too good to be 
true. We can't write any more, for we must go 
and dance the " Dance of Delight," which Phil 
invented when he got here. Hurrah I hurrah ! 
hurrah ! Kisses and love from Edith, 



A MERRY little maiden with a wealth of golden hair 
Went out one day a-sailing with a friendly polar-bear. 
The maiden spread her handkerchief and made a jolly sail ; 
The bear sat in the stem, and told an interesting tale. 
• Now this," the bear remarked to her, " is just what ought to be. 
We '11 sail away and sail away until we cross the sea, 
And I will be the captain, while you shall be my mate ; 
I 'm sure a boat like this cannot be hard to 'navigate." 
So on they sailed and sailed away and never knew a care, 
This merry little maiden and the friendly polar-bear. 

But after many days the wind began to blow a gale. 

And all the crew were ordered up aloft to shorten sail. 
' Dear me I " the merry maiden cried, " how miserable I feel ! " 
' You must not speak," the captain said, " to him wot 's at the wheel. 

Now throw the cargo overboard as quickly as you can ; 

We 've got to lighten ship at once or perish to a man ! " 

Oh, then the captain looked at her and she looked back at him. 

And each remembered, suddenly, that neither one could swim. 

They looked to windward, fore and aft ; there was no help in sight. 

They felt that all their beaming hopes must sufter early blight. 

At last the captain, sobbing, said, " I might eat you, my dear ; 

And that would lighten half the weight at once, 't is very clear." 
' Excuse me," said the mate, " I think the better plan would be 

To cut off all your bushy hair and fling it in the sea." 
' No sooner said than done," said she, and straight her scissors plied, 

And snipped away until the bear had lost his shaggy hide. 



They saved the hair, however, and they made a goodly raft. 
Then sailed away and sailed away on that fantastic craft ; 
And when the captain's temperature without his coat grew low. 
He boxed the compass for a while and got in quite a glow. 

They studied navigation, and they passed some hours away 
In teaching schools of porpoises to tell the time of day, 
But made so little headway, since they could not sail nor row. 
They begged a whale, that happened by, to take the raft in tow. 
But suddenly the whale he dived, and disappeared from view. 
And left them floating on the sea, this shipwrecked crew of two. 

Then said the bear: " The very thing we ought to do just now, 

Is to go and furl the mizzen-shrouds and lash them to the bow." 

Then they gave the keel a luff or two and brought the jibs about ; 

They took an observation and sat down to work it out. 

That night the captain kept the watch. They had but one, you see, 

And he forgot to wind it, so they drifted far to lee; 

And when the morning broke they saw the breakers just ahead, 


Yet not a soHtary spot where they could heave the lead. 

They drifted on ! — they felt a crash ! — the boat began to sink ! 

When suddenly the mate remembered she had saved the ink. 

She rushed below,— she got the ink, — she poured it on the waves, 

And thus alone that hapless crew were saved from watery graves. 



She took a pen and dipped it down into that inky sea ; 
She wrote a line, — threw it ashore, — 't was caught, and thus you see 
They all were drawn quite safe to land, the captain and his crew. 
And lo ! they found they were in France and had to '' parlez-voits." 
■ Now this," the bear remarked to her, " is just what ought to be ; 
We 've sailed away and sailed away until we 've crossed the sea." 
And they started off to view the land, — this friendly polar-bear 
And the merry little maiden, with the wealth of golden hair. 




t>^ ' 1^ 

.\\ wMmi 


By J. O. D.wiDSON. 


Chapter VIII. 


Next day was bright and beautiful ; but 
Frank Austin was kept a close prisoner, though 
he occasionally caught glimpses of the fleet fol- 
lowing in their leader's wake. Twice during 
the day they passed heavily laden traders north- 
ward bound; but all were allowed to go by 
unmolested. Strange behavior for pirates, 
Frank thought, as he saw the prizes glide by 
without being even hailed. 

Toward nightfall land was sighted, and the 
fleet hove to in a deep and narrow passage 
between two islands. Evidently some impor- 
tant work was to be done here ; for busy prepa- 
rations were made by the crews, and boats 

passed from junk to junk carrying the long 
grass hawsers which Frank had seen on the 
beach while he was at the settlement. After 
dark, he saw a line of glimmering lights stretch- 
ing over the water on both sides of the chief's 
junk, as if the fleet had formed a line of battle. 
What could it all mean ? No foe was in sight, 
and they were still at some distance from the 
land. How quiet everything seemed on board ! 
But for an occasional footfall on the deck above, 
Frank would have thought the craft deserted. 
His lonely watch and the gende rolling of the 
boat wearied him, and he fell asleep. 

How long he slept he did not know. He 
was suddenly awakened by the distant sound 
of a steamer's whistle. The deep boom of the 
deck-gong then sounded above, and was im- 
mediately followed by sharp orders from the 

CHAN ok; a romance of the eastern seas. 


officers ; then came the surge of the sweeps, and 
Frank knew, from the bustle, that the crew 
were casting loose the guns. 

" Can it be the gunboat on their track ? " 
Frank asked himself, but at once remembered 
that the pirates would hardly dare to meet her 
in open fight. Again the steamer's whistle 
reached him; but now she was much nearer. 
One, two, three — four short blasts, followed 
by a long one. 

" That means ' Clear the track ' ' Something 
is in her way," said Frank to himself. 

The thud, thud of the propeller and the rush 
of water at the steamer's bows could now be 

Suddenly the shout of a man came clear and 
distinct through the night air saying in French : 

" Port your helm ! Stop her ! Back her ! For 
your life, be quick I We 're among pirates ! " 

Then the steamer's bell clanged twice, and 
Frank heard the reversing of the engines. He 
rushed to the window and looked out. For a 
moment all was still ; then came a terrific crash, 
the sound of rending planks, and the surging of 
spray, with a shock that almost threw him off his 
feet. The explosion of heavy guns succeeded ; 
and, by the light of the discharges, Frank saw 

the shadowy form of a large iron steamer along- 
side, completely surrounded and hemmed in by 
the fleet of junks, whose crews he could see 
swarming over her sides with weapons in hand. 

Darkness, powder, and smoke soon obscured 
the scene. No more cannon were fired, but the 
confused noise of a struggle reached his ears, 
mingled with the reports of firearms, of battle- 
cries, and then — savage yells of exultation from 
the pirates. 

At length he heard the noise of escaping 
steam from the captured steamer's safety-valve. 
Frank, horror-stricken at the fearful tragedy tak- 
ing place so near him, crouched on his prison 
floor, fervently hoping that the strangers might 
yet manage to escape from their deadly peril. 

Suddenly he felt a touch on his shoulder, and 
a well-known voice hissed in his ear, " Quick ! 
Caji'n Frank, for your life, follow me! " 

He turned and beheld the swarthy form of 
Kanaka Joe, crouching on the floor, dripping wet, 
and with a coil of rope wound about his body. 

Silencing Frank's cry of astonishment, Joe 
motioned him to one of the stem windows, 
from which Frank saw that a bar had been 
wrenched. Fastening the rope to a ring-bolt 
both slid down by it, Frank going out first. 



and dropped into a sampan* hardly distinguish- 
able through the smoke of the conflict still rag- 
ing fiercely above them. 

Stunned and bewildered, Frank stumbled into 
a seat, and grasping the oar that was thrust 
into his hand commenced rowing with all his 
strength. Joe's sinewy back swayed to and fro 
before Frank, as he, also, bent to the work. A 
few moments' hard pulHng, and they left behind 
them the smoke of the conflict, and not till then 
did Frank notice that Proddy was behind him 
rowing, while old Ben Herrick stood astern, 
abaft the cuddy, steering. 

" Give way, my lads, give way ! " cried Ben ; 
" we 'd better get well clear of this neighbor- 
hood as soon as we can ! " 

Behind lay a confused mass of drifting smoke 
in which could vaguely be seen the masts and 
spars of the vessels ; while the occasional fitful 
gleam and dull report of firearms showed that 
resistance was still being made to the robbers. 
Soon, however, all sounds of conflict ceased, and 
everything was dark again. 

For two hours more they kept on their wa\ 
until exhaustion compelled them to rest. 

" We ought to be thankful for our deliver- 
ance, Mr. Frank ! " exclaimed Ben, reverently, 
as he extended his honest hand to his com- 
mander. " I little thought our stay with those 
thieves would be so short ! " 

" But, Ben, I did not know you and the boys 
were with the fleet. How did you come to be 
with us ? " asked Frank eagerly. 

" Well, sir, if you '11 let me take a spell at 
your oar, I '11 spin you the yam ; and simple 
enough it is." 

After changing places with Frank, Ben began 
his story: 

" The day you had me eased of that hard 
labor I had nothing to do but to wander around 
gathering all the information I could about this 
here expedition ; and, although I could not un- 
derstand much of their lingo, I heard enough to 
convince me it was our only chance to get away. 
So 1 consulted with Joe and Proddy, and con- 
sequently they were of the same mind. Just 
before they started that evening, we slipped into 
a boat with some coils of rope and casks that 
had been forgotten, chucked the boat-keeper 
* A light skiff, somelimes with a maltins; 
Vol. XVni.— s5. 

over, and rowed out to the fleet. We hardly 
knew what to do after we got there ; but it 
would not do to go back, so Joe puts on a bold 
face, and picking out the smallest junk he tells 
her crew as how the chief had ordered us to 
sail in her. It was easy enough to hide our- 
selves, after we once got aboard, until they got 
to sea ; and then it was too late to send us back. 
They kicked us about a good deal and made 
us work ; but they said nothing to the chief 

about our being there, and that made everything 
right so far. You know the rest." 

" Why, no, I don't," replied Frank. " What 
was all this fight for, to-night ? " 

" Well, Joe says that he heard the men talk- 
ing of a French steamer they expected to lay a 
trap for between two islands. I suppose that 
must be the steamer they took to-night." 

"But how could they stop a powerful steamer 
like that ? Why did n't she go around them ? " 

" \\'hy, you know, Mr. Frank, those steamers 
don't turn out for junks. They just blow the 
whistle, and then run 'em down. Well, know- 
roof, usually propelled by a sail, or sculled. 



ing that fact, these cunning chaps just fastened 
all their fleet together with those big grass haw- 
sers we saw them making. The steamer's look- 
out mistook us for a sleepy lot of traders, 

" At first they were going to sheer out of our 
way, but the pirates rowed their junks right 
across their bows, an' so she tried the usual 
way — running them down. 

" When she struck, she smashed the middle 
junks to match-sticks. Thunderation ! — how 
the timbers flew ! But those, you see, were 
old, rotten hulks, with no one on board. It 
was then these grass cables came into play ; 
for they held the wrecked junks together, and 
the steamer's headway made the rest of them 
fall back on both sides of her hke a mass of 
kelp weed. As soon as they came alongside the 
steamer, the pirates chucked a lot of old cordage 
and fish-nets under her stem, and fouled the 
propeller. But long before that, there were 
three hundred or more of the yellow rascals on 
her decks, armed with their terrible knives and 
the Frenchmen stood no chance whatever!" 

" Horrible ! " exclaimed Frank. 

" Yes, sir, bad enough ; but you see, if Euro- 
pean steamers had n't that reckless way of run- 
ning down the junks, this thing would not have 
happened. It was a clever trick, though, we 
must confess." 

Before Ben had finished his storv, the gray 
•Streaks of dawn appeared, and the sun rose in 
.splendor over the expanse of blue water. Low 
down on the horizon lay the two islands; and 
near them, almost under the sun, a few specks 
indicated where the pirates' fleet was busy with 
its capture. 

" Ay, there they are, the thieves ! — taking 
her off to rob at their leisure ! " growled Ben 
as he gazed after them. 

" It 's pretty hard work, this rowing ; and 
it 's a pity to lose this fine breeze," said Frank, 
turning to the mate. " Ben, don't you think 
we might rig up some sort of a sail ? " 

" Well, «e might ; but there is nothing on 
board but a .small bundle of canvas, here in a 
locker. We might make out by using our 
coats and shirts, and such few things as we 
can spare I " So saying, Ben went to work and, 
with a sailor's ingenuity, soon finished a contri- 

vance which all heartily laughed at, but which 
nevertheless held the wind, and caused the 
boat to run merrily through the w'ater. 

" There ! " said Ben, eying his work aloft 
with great satisfaction, " it 's not much of a 
craft, with that lug ; but I think, as we 're lay- 
ing a good course, we 'd better beat all hands 
to quarters, and give you the command of the 
ship, sir " ; and he made a bow as respectful as 
if Frank were the captain of a man-of-war, just 
going into commission. 

"All right, Ben. I shall take command," re- 
pHed Frank, laughing ; " and as there are only 
four of us, we can all be officers. You can 
be lieutenant, Ben; Joe, second-oflicer ; and 
Proddy, chief cook. As we 're all hungry, the 
chief cook had better get us some breakfast ! " 

Proddy drew a long face, and announced 
that two pounds of rice, a keg of water, and 
some salt-fish was all their larder afforded. 

" We had to steal this boat, and get off dur- 
ing the fight, sir ; and I 'm afraid we over- 
looked the provisions entirely, not thinking of 
anything at the time but how to escape," said 
Ben, ruefully. 

"Well, gentlemen, I suppose we shall have to 
go on short rations immediately," said Frank, 
with as much cheerfulness as he could com- 
mand ; " for we have a long journey before 
us, and must not waste a grain of rice." 

Dividing out their first day's food, they had 
just enough left for one day more. 

Ch.\pter IX. 


All day long they relieved each other at the 
oars, and managed the sail so as to catch every 
breath of wind that favored their northward 
course. As soon as relieved, each crawled under 
the thatched roof of the cuddy and instantly fell 
asleep. Those on duty kept a careful watch for 
any passing sail, but saw nothing more than the 
distant clouds, or the dip of a white gull's wing. 

After an anxious night's watching, the second 
morning broke as clear, bright, and beautiful as 
the preceding, but its very serenity was a source 
of anxiety ; for without wind or rain their 
death was certain before long. Indeed, the last 
morsel of food and the last drop of water were 



consumed that day, and as the evening stars 
came out starvation stared them in the face. 

Next day, at noon, Joe contrived to catch a 
few little fish that had sheltered themselves un- 
der the shade of some floating sea-weed. These 
they divided and ate raw ; but all their efforts 
to tempt some sea-birds within reach of a bam- 
boo pole were unavailing. The long, hot after- 
noon wore away, and still they toiled at the 
oars. They looked for rain, but in vain. They 
kept watch for a sail ; still nothing but 
a waste of blue water and feathery, 
floating clouds met their gaze. 

Again the sun set in golden glory ; 
the constellation of the Southern Cross 
blazed out in the heavens, and the 
cool night winds crept gently over tlic 
unruffled water. 

The morning of the fourth day founi 
them too exhausted to toil at the oars 
so one kept watch while the rest crawlci : 
into the cuddy to forget their hunger, 
if possible, in sleep. 


Possibly his long, rough life at sea had rendered 
him less sensitive to suffering. 

At all events, while his companions dozed, Ben 
still watched. The evening's chill settled over 
the water. Just as the light was fading from 
the sky, Ben struggled to his feet and, steadying 
himself against the mast, gazed long and ear- 
nestly at a thin, dusky haze stretching along the 

" Can that be land ? " he huskily muttered. 

Little was said as 
they relieved each 
other on the watch, 
for their parched 
mouths almost re- 
fused to form words, 
and as they avoided 
one another's desper- 
ate e)es, they all felt 
the end could not be 
long delayed. 

The spectacle they 
presented was jjitiful 
indeed. The rude, 
patched sail flapped 
lazily against the 

mast as the old boat turned its prow slowly 
from point to point, as if seeking some sign 
of relief from the stillness around. In the 
cuddy lay Frank and Joe, stupefied with hunger 
and utterly exhausted, and Proddy sat listlessly 
on the thwart. Old Ben, with his gray locks 
hanging in tangled masses about his head, 
leaned feebly against the mast and gazed with 
restless eyes around the horizon. 

Strange to say, the old man had withstood 
privation better than his younger companions. 


" or is it the smoke of a steamer ? I '11 not 
wake the boys yet. Disappointment now would 
kill them." 

He continued to gaze at the hazy cloud as 
the darkness closed around. An hour passed : 
and though the boat turned slowly about, now 
pointing this way, now that, becalmed on the 
glassy water, the old man still kept his eye on 
that one point where he had seen the dusky 
line. Presently his patience was rewarded by 
the sight of a faint point of light like a tiny star 

CHAN ok; a romance of thk eastern seas. 


resting on the water ; but it was yellower in 
color than the stars above. 

"Thank Heaven!" the old sailor \vhis[)ercil 
as he tottered aft. " Ay, sleep away, my lads 1 
You '11 soon be out of this trouble." 

So saying, he softly opened a locker and drew 
forth a lot of oakum, rags of canvas, and a few 
chips of wood. These he carried forward in a 
pannikin, which he fastened in the bows. Then 
he produced from his pocket a quaint-looking, 
circular Chinese mirror of polished metal, and 
carefully rubbed it bright with a bit of flannel. 
The distant light was now much nearer, and 
another could be seen somewhat lower than 
the first. '' Ay, ay ! there 's her masthead-light 
and her bow-light," exclaimed Ben ; " and now 
I see her red light to port. The starboard green 
light is hid yet, so she must be a large steamer. 
Hullo ! there 's her green light now. She 's 
changed her course somewhat. She is coming 
head on. Guess I 'd better show my glim." 

So saying, he touched a match to the mass in 
the pan, and it instantly burst into a bright flame. 

" Fire, fire ! " came in husky tones from the 
cuddy, as Frank sat up, dazzled by the glare. 

Ben touched him on the shoulder and, point- 
ing to the distant light, uttered but one word : 

" Safe ! " 

Joe and Proddy, who had now crawled out, 
comprehended the situation instantly, and stood 
watching eagerly, as Ben, standing behind the 
fire, reflected the glare in the little mirror and 
flashed its light far out into the darkness toward 
the steamer. 

" Hush ! " whispered Joe, leaning over the 
boat's side and putting his ear close to the 
water. " Propeller, jMassa Frank. P. and O. 
steamer. Listen ! " 

Sure enough, before long the " thud, thud," of 
a propeller wheel came faintly to their ears. At 
this the weakened crew attempted a cheer, but 
their voices were so faint they ])roduced only a 
shrill, feeble cry. So they gave it up and busied 
themselves in feeding the fire with such things 
as they could lay their hands on. In their 
eagerness they even tore off the cuddy thatch 
and split up the seats to keep up the fire. 

" Golly, Massa Frank ! " exclaimed Proddy, 
" we '11 burn uj) the boat befo' dey gets here I " 

" Never mind, lads : it 's our last chance." 

cried Ben, as he snapped an oar to feed the 
flames. "Pile everything on. Hooray, lads! 
they see us ! Here they come." 

In a few minutes the great hull of a large 
steamship emerged from the darkness, and she 
slow'ed up within a hundred yards, her many 
lights twinkling from her open ports, while 
numerous figures could be seen clustered about 
the decks. 

" Boat ahoy ! Do you want any help ? " 
came in ringing tones over the water. 

" Yes I Yes I " cried the castaways all at 
once ; but their voices were so husky and shrill 
that they could hardly have been heard on the 

Fearing they were to be deserted, Frank 
seized a brand from the fire and, waving it 

above his head in despair, managed to call 
out, " Help, help ! " and then, overcome by the 
exertion, fell back into the arms of Ben. 

The rattling of blocks and tackle now was 
heard from the steamer as the crew sprang to 
lower the life-boat, and the officer's orders from 
the bridge were audible as he directed the men ; 
hut all other sounds w-ere presently drowned by 
the roar of steam from the safetv-valve. 



An instant later the stanch life-boat ran along- 
side the small craft. It was not a moment too 
soon, for the neglected fire had reached the 
woodwork of the sampan and she was all ablaze 

The rescued castaways were helped into the 
life-boat, and Frank was tenderly laid in the 

" Quick, men ! Shove off! " ordered the offi- 
cer, for all the bow of the sampan was now in 
flames. The sail, too, had caught, and from it 
were dropping blazing fragments, which hissed 
as they were extinguished in the inky water. 

The steamer's side was soon gained, the 
tackle hooked on, boat, crew, and all were run 
swiftly up to the davits, and the rescued men 
were taken into the cabin, where they received 
the best attention the steamer could afford. 

The rescuing vessel had meanwhile resumed 
her headway, and left the blazing craft to fade 
into the distance, where the smoke and flame 
from her burning hull and mast rose like a 
luminous column straight upward into the 
darkness, like a warning finger pointing to 
the midnight sky. 

The kindly care of their rescuers soon restored 
the exhausted men to health, and, three days 
later, they were landed at Hong Kong. 

Immediately on arriving they repaired to 
the company's office, where their appearance 
created the greatest astonishment, as all believed 
that they had perished in some gale. 

Frank was ushered into the agent's office, 
and to him the }-oung captain recounted his 
adventures in detail. 

When he had finished, the agent shook him 
warmly by the hand, saying that the company 
would gladly have paid double the required 
money to get him back ; but now that they had 
been saved so large a ransom (which would 
have been a total loss, in addition to the cost of 
their junk) by Herrick's and Joe's foresight in 
affording Frank the means of escape, he would 
amply reward the men for their devotion. 

On being called from the outer office the 
three came awkwardly in, hats in hand ; but 
Joe paused a moment at the door, and stepped 
on the rich carpet only after much coaxing. 

" The lad has n't been used to such fine 
footing," Ben explained in apolog)'. 

'■ \\'ell, my lads," said the agent, '• I hear 
an excellent report from Mr. Ausrin of your 
devotion to him and to the company's interests. 
Vou shall not be unrewarded." 

" We did no more than our duty, sir, in get- 
ting him out of the clutches of those villains," 
replied Ben, " and it was Joe, here, sir, that put 
the notion into our heads. He 's a fine fellow 
is Joe, sir, and Proddy, too, — if he is only a 

.\t this both Joe and Proddy grinned, looking 
very embarrassed and uncomfortable. 

" I see you are all modest, and the carpet 
seems too hot for Joe, so I won't keep you 
waiting," said the agent, laughing. Then ring- 
ing a bell, he told the porter to summon all 
the employees in the offices. In a moment or 
two all the clerks and others were assembled, 
wondering what was on hand. 

In a few words the agent gave them an 
outline of our fiiends' adventures, and highly 
praised them for their faithfulness. Then, turn- 
ing to Ben, he said : 

" Ben Herrick, in this aftair you have behaved 
with a courage, bravery, and fidelity proverbial 
among men of your class, and I take pleasure 
in now extending to you, and to your two mess- 
mates, Proddy and Joe, the thanks of the com- 
pany, and also a more substantial reward." 

He then handed to each a considerable sum 
in gold, in addition to their regular wages. 

" Thank ye, sir," replied Ben. Then he added 
severelv, " Proddy, stop your staring, and say 
' Thank ye ' for your present ! " 

Joe had already made a low obeisance after 
the manner of his people. 

All the employees now crowded about to 
congratulate them, and Ben, flourishing his hat, 
called for " Three cheers for the agent. Captain 
Austin, and the company ! " Three rousing 
" Hurrahs ! " followed, and as all filed out Ben 
was heard to say, " Proddy, you lubber of a sea- 
cook, where were your manners? — you acted 
like a fool ! " 

" Golly, Massa Ben," answered the good- 
natured fellow, " I was done gone a'most crazy 
for shuah, when he give me all dis money." 

" Xow, Mr. Austin," said the agent, when 
they were alone together, " please accept from 
me this token of appreciation. I know you are 


going to say that you lost your ship and cargo, So saying he drew from his linger a handsome 

and do not desire to take any present ; but, I ring. 

assure you, you have done us a great service in " Now, sir," continued he, " we had better lay 

putting us on the track of the worst pirate in your information before the proper authorities, 

these seas. This man has caused us such losses so that they may lose no time in starting one 

that if we succeed in destroying him we shall of their swiftest cruisers on the track of these 

consider this last loss as nothing ! " piratical gentlemen." 

( To be continued. ) 


'How queer it is that we should look 

So much like one another ! 
Most people get us all mixed up — 

They can't tell me from brother, 
And no or.e 's certain which is which 

Excepting only — n~.other ! " 

Jessie B. Mc CI II re. 


Bv Walter Storks Bigelow. 

V. A hornets' nest. 

My mother had come to spend the month 
of September with Charhe's mother, and had 
brought my younger brother, Robert. I was 
attending school with Charlie, because there 
was only a District School in the village where 
we lived. But Robert's eyes were not strong, 
and the doctor had said that for the present 
he must not study. Charlie and I wished that 
we could have weak eyes, too. When we were 
kept at home by illness, we were generally so 
light-headed, or so shaky in the legs, that we 
could n't have any fun. But a boy with weak 
eyes could play just the same as usual. 

One evening soon after the Revolution in 
school, mother called us aside just as we were 
starting for bed. 

" This afternoon," said she, " Charlie heard 
some of the boys talking over a plan to frighten 
you and Robert to-morrow. He wanted to 
warn you without tattling, and asked me to 
give you a hint. Then you can look out for 
yourselves. Now, I will ask you one question. 
Do hornets ever build their nests down near 
the water ? You need n't answer, but )ou ma}- 
think about it, and talk it over." 

So off we went upstairs, puzzled. Do hor- 
nets ever build their nests down near the water ? 
What a queer question ! 

" Last one in bed puts out the light ! " 

We had walked very slowly upstairs, but at 
this challenge from me we both began to undress 
with great speed. Our coats came off together, 
and then our collars — neck and neck. Down 
we went on the floor, Hke a well-drilled regi- 
ment's " Order arms ! " and began to unlace 
our shoes in unison. The rights came off to- 
gether; but, with too hasty fingers, I pulled 
the end of my left shoestring through the loop. 
I was the one to put out the light — after that 
knot was untied, and then I crawled in beside 

my little brother, who would much rather not 
have won by a " foul." 

Soon we began to talk over the mysterious 
question, Do hornets ever build their nests 
down near the water ? 

" Do you suppose the boys will play they 're 
hornets, and sting us with big thistles ! " asked 
Bobby, with an anxious voice. 

" Perhaps so ; but they won't dare try it if 
Ned Barnes is there." 

" If he is n't, I won't go in," said Bobby, in 
the tone of one who has made up his mind. 

" We '11 go down, anyway. Perhaps there 's 
a real hornets' nest, and we may find it. We 
can tell by the way the boys act, what to do." 

The next afternoon, much to our relief, Ned 
Barnes came down to the swimming-hole soon 
after our arrival there, and Bobby and I did not 
feel obliged to sit and watch the other boys 
having all the fun. There was whispering 
among the boys, but we knew what it was 
about, and w'ere ready for any trick they might 
dare play while Ned was there. This was 
Bobby's first visit to the spot, but he could 
swim like a little duck, and was to be our com- 
panion, instead of joining the paddlers of his 
own age in the shallow water, up stream. 

For all my little brother's bright blue eyes 
were not strong, they were a much better pair 
of observers than mine ; and if there were a 
hornets' nest to be seen, I depended chiefly on 
him to discover it. 

This time I was undressed first, taking care 
about my shoestrings ; and after the usual cere- 
monial soaking of my brown hair with water, 
and burying my browner face in a double hand- 
ful of it, I dived into the deep hole. 

I have already told how the current would 
carry us swiftly under the big tree that projected 
above the stream, and how we would clutch it 
and thereon reach the bank. But this time, as 
I came up, turned on mv back, and was bonie 


umicr the tree, I saw, hanging out from the 
down-stream side of the trunk — it! 

I did n't clutch the tree, but floated past, 
scrambled out on the bank below, and hastened 
to where my brother was about to make his 
maiden plunge into our swimming-hole. 

" Wait, wait, Bobby ! " I cried, in a hoarse 
whisper. " I want to tell you something. The 
nest is on that big tree. You dive once, so 's not 
to seem afraid ; but get to land without touching 
the tree. Then we '11 go home." 

The other boys were so busy that, when Bobby 
had made his plunge, we quietly dressed and 
slipped away unnoticed. 

When Charlie arrived about tea-time, he 
asked me : 

" What was the matter with you this after- 
noon ? Why did you come up to the house 
so early ? " 

" Oh, you need n't pretend," said I. " You 
w'ere a trump to give us that hint." 

" What about ? " 

" Aw ! you know. About the hornets' nest 
on the trunk of the big tree." 

" There is n't any nest on the tree, that I know 
of. There was one on the old stump up by the 
shallows, yesterday ; and the fellows meant to 
have some fun with you by knocking it off, and 
making the hornets mad. But some one else 
destroyed it before we got there this afternoon." 

'• But I saw a nest on the tree myself," I 

" Why did n't the rest of us see it, then ? " 

" You would have seen it if you 'd been on 
the lookout, as I was ; and I wonder you did n't 
see it, anyway." 

" But don't you suppose that some one of the 
boys would have hit it when he pulled himself 
out of the water ? " 

" I should think so. I saw it only just in 
time to keep from hitting it myself." 

" I believe you only imagined you saw a nest, 
because you were afraid. Just as people afraid 
of ghosts are always thinking they see 'em." 

" I was n't afraid. Come down there and 
I '11 show it to you." 

" All right, but I know you won't find any 

So that evenint;, after tea, Charlie, Hobbv, and 


I went again to the swimming-hole. When we 
reached the stream, our shoes and the lower 
ends of our trousers were soaked with dew from 
the long meadow grass through which we had 
waded. It was nearly dusk. We got down on 
our hands and knees at the edge of the bank 
below the tree, and peered at the place we had 
come to look at, and there saw — a big, brown, 
warty knot on the trunk. In all the times I had 
seen the trunk of that tree, I had never noticed 
the knot ; but I had never before been looking 
out so sharply for a hornets' nest. 

Charlie and Bobby looked at each other, but 
they both kept still — so still, in fact, that they 
made me nervous. But they were very good 
about it, and the chaffing I expected never 

The way back seemed to me a great deal 
longer than that we had come, though it w-as 
over the same ground. Across the meadow it 
was slightly up hill from the stream, and perhajjs 
that was the reason. The long grass matted 
and tangled before us, and our shoes ripped 
through it as we crossed the meadow in the 
growang darkness. 

We were so tired when we reached home that 
we went straight up to bed, talking over the 
events of the day. 

" Now let 's go to sleep, Bobby," said I, at 
last. " Good night." 

" Well, good night," said Bobby. 

" Good night." 

" Good night." 

" There ; did you hear the clock strike nine ? 
Well, after nine o'clock we must n't talk. I '11 
say good night, and then we '11 stoj). Good 

" Good night," echoed Bobby. 

" You ought n't to answer me, when it 's so late. 
You 've said good night, and now I '11 answer, 
and then we must go to sleep. Good night." 

" Good night," said Bobby. 

" Why do you keep on answering ? Suppose 
we say it together, after I count three." 

" All right," said Bol)l)\-. 

" Now, then. One, two, three — " 

"Good — night!" we both exclaimed, to- 

In three minutes more we were sound asleep. 


By Mary F. Honeyman. 

" So Tiberius might have sat 
Had Tiberius been a cat." 

Probably most St. Nicholas boys and girls 
have a favorite cat or kitten, maybe a whole 
family of these furry friends. And perhaps the 
lively interest taken in their home pets will be 
extended to the big silver-gray Maltese pussy 
whose portrait stands at the head of this page. 

His experiences have been somewhat different 
from those of cats in general. In the first place, 
he began life \ery high up in the world ; that 
is to say, in the seventh story of the building 
which is the home of the St. Nicholas maga- 
zine. At an early age he went into business, not 
as an office boy, but as an office cat ; for mice 
were plenty in the great building, and their 
sharp little white teeth did much mischief in 
nibbling the backs off the magazines for the 
morsel of paste that secures the cover. And 
these mice, perhaps knowing more than most 
mice, having been familiar with good literature 

all their days, just laughed at mouse-traps, no 
matter how temptingly baited with toasted 
cheese, and refused to be caught in them on 
any terms. At length it was decided to get a 
cat to put an end to their depredations; and 
what cat could be better than the gray one who 
lived on the top floor with the janitor, and was 
then some three years old ? So it came about 
that he was installed as The Century Cat ; and 
what could be more fitting than that he should 
receive the name " Century " ? A good friend of 
his at once gave him a fine collar with his name 
engraved upon it, and very soon he came to 
know his name quite as well as you boys and 
girls know yours, and answered when it was 
called more promptly perhaps than some of you 
always answer to yours. 

His duties were so faithfully performed that 
in a short time no mice were to be seen about 
the premises ; but how or when they were dis- 
posed of no one knew, though there was a 



general impression tlint the citt and llie mice 
arranged their aftairs at night when they had 
the building to themselves. Certainly, during 
the day Century devoted most of his time to 
sleeping, sometimes curled up into a huge furry 
ball, as like as not on top of a tall heap of 
magazines, his head resting on one of the soft 
gray paws that you see in the picture. 

He evidently believed that a cat must live, 
and was inclined to be a trifle particular as to 
both the quality and the quantity of the beef or 
mutton, and milk that were daily brought from 
a restaurant for his delectation. In this way, 
although he could not be said to draw a salary, 
yet his name was upon the pay-roll, and his 
weekly account was audited with the general 
business of the magazines. 

Century was not unmindful of his social 
duties, and during some portion of every day 
he gave his friends an opportunity of show- 
ing him those little attentions of which all cats 
are so fond. He walked about the entire office 
on the tops of the desks, stepping carefully over 
the books, letters, papers, etc., with which they 
were covered, never displacing anything, and 
strange to say, never upsetting the ink. Once, 
though, he did get a paw into a large inkstand 
accidentally, and then walking over one of the 
large wrappers in which the magazines are 
mailed, the perfect impression of the paw was 
left upon the paper, many times repeated, in 
violet ink. This was preserved as a specimen 
of the office cat's handwriting. 

In some particularly cozy comer or near some 
chosen friend he would lie down and take his 
afternoon nap ; and very amusing it was to see 
what trouble people would take so that the 
cat might not be disturbed. Sometimes he 
would station himself on the counter and make 
friends with the persons who came in, very few 
of whom failed to pat and speak to the beauti- 
ful creature. These courtesies were generally 
received with dignified condescension. Occa- 
.sionally, however, he seemed to throw dignity 
to the winds ; and then with ears laid back and 
tail erect, he would scamper down the corridor, 
just a city block from the front to the rear of 
the building, and back again as fast as he 
could go. 

In summer, when the windows were open, he 

liked to lie far out on the sill, stretched at 
full length. And if any one, fearful that he 
might fall from his lofty perch, tried to per- 
suade him to take a .safer position, he would 
.scold and resume the outermost ledge as soon 
as possible. One thing here disturbed his peace 
of mind, and that was when the sparrows would 
alight on the telegraph wires, not far from the 
windows, and there chirp and twitter in the 
most exasperating manner. Long, sly looks he 
took at them, and if they came nearer than 
usual he would show his teeth and " talk " in 
what seemed to be a very disagreeable way. 

If Century were telling this story himself 1 
suppose he would say that his most dreadful 
experience was on the night when the build- 
ing took fire. It was some time before the 
poor fellow could be found, thoroughly fright- 
ened and very wet but not at all burned. He 
never seemed to recover entirely from the scare, 
however, and this fact may have led to the 
suggestion, when the question of office vaca- 
tions came up last summer, that Century should 
take a vacation, too. Why not ? He must 
find it very trying to be shut up alone from 
noon on Saturday till the following Monday 
morning, all summer long, to say nothing of 
every night. So it was arranged that the cat 
should have a vacation, and should spend it 
in one of the pretty villages of New Jersey. 
There he found himself one fine day, though the 
less said the better as to the manner in which 
he conducted himself on the way thither. But 
then boys, and, I am sorry to add, girls, do not 
always behave perfectly well on trains and boats 
and in other public places ; so let us not expect 
too much of a mere cat. 

It was good to see how delighted the hand- 
some captive was with the new out-of-door 
world that was now opened to him. Do you 
remember how you felt when you were first 
taken from the hot and noisy city to the sea- 
shore, or to some lovely green farm .-' How 
charming it was to dig in the sand, to run and 
frisk about to your heart's content, to throw 
yourself down on the soft grass under the shady 
trees and to breathe the sweet air ! Something 
like this poor Century felt, for you will remem- 
ber that he had never been out of the city 
before, had never walked on the ground nor 


chased another cat, and as for climbing trees, 
he did not know there were such things as trees. 
He feh his way about very cautiously at first, 
as if the light were too strong for his eyes, and 
with the air of being afraid that the ground 
might give way beneath his feet. He was in 
a strange element, and acted much as it is said 
sailors have been known to do when on land in 
a severe gale, creeping timidly about the streets, 
fearful that the houses may fall upon them. 

After a little, the spirit of investigation seemed 
to take possession of our cat. Every tree, every 
shrub, the flowers, and the grass he must snift" 
and rub against in the peculiar fashion in which 
cats make acquaintance; this not once, but again 
and again. The trees impressed him gready, and 
it was not long before he attempted to run up 
one — rather shyly at the start, and not very 
far, but gradually he lost all fear and climbed as 
nimbly as any cat need. Insects were curiosi- 
ties to this town-bred creature, and he would 
perk his head on one side and look at a 
grasshopper or a cricket with a comically criti- 
cal air. Of course he knew no better than to 
play with bees. Having pinned one to the wall, 
he proceeded to examine it closely ; and, when 
stung, he shook his head vigorously and seemed 
much surprised that the smart could not be 
dislodged in that way. Toads afforded him 
endless diversion. He would keep one in sight 
for hours, giving it an occasional pat, or chasing 
it if he felt inclined to frolic. .\s to birds, their 
number and variety evidently filled him with 
amazement, not to mention the entire uncon- 
cern with which they would alight close to him 
to pick up a crumb or a seed. 

He was disposed to be very neighborly at 
first; in fact he seemed to think that one coun- 
try house was quite as good as another — an 
opinion that usually led to his hostess's going 
about the neighborhood at nightfall inquiring 
for a large Maltese cat. ^Vhen found he invari- 
ably made forcible protest against being carried 

After a time, though, he seemed to accept the 
idea of home and regular hours, and now not 
one of you boys who are the proud possessors 


of bright new watches could e.xcel Century in 
the matter of punctuality. How he manages it 
I do not know, but every night precisely at ten 
o'clock the tap, tap of his collar may be heard 
against the pane of a certain low window which 
he has selected in preference to a door. And then 
he knows that he will be admitted to the waiting 
saucer of milk, and to the warm rug on which 
he sleeps. 

Fears that he might not be able to defend 
himself against other cats and dogs proved to 
be quite groundless. He took his stand from 
the very first morning that he lay dozing in the 
porch and waited for an intrusive terrier to come 
up barking noisil}'. Then Century flew at that 
dog, taking care not to let him escape from the 
premises until a sound thrashing had been ad- 
ministered, when he was allowed to depart 
wailing down the street, a wiser dog, for he has 
passed daily ever since without vouchsafing so 
much as a growl. Dogs much larger than Cen- 
tury are admonished to depart without cere- 
mony ; and as to cats, all and sundry, a warning 
" S-p-t-z-f-f, s-p-t-t-t ! " is the only salutation that 
the boldest waits for. 

Century dearly loves to get into the dining- 
room at dinner, when he will steal from chair to 
chair, softly purring; and having attracted atten- 
tion by gently touching one's elbow with his 
paw, or rubbing his head against one's arm, he 
will sit up on his haunches, very straight, drop 
those soft gray paws forward close together on 
his breast, and so wait for whatever choice 
morsel he may have. Cheese he likes exceed- 
ingly, and will do his most irresistible "beg- 
ging" when his keen scent apprises him that 
cheese is upon the table. 

He is still in the country, nowise anxious to 
return to the city and to business, apparently ; 
and I know not where you will find a sleeker, 
happier, more comfortable cat. He is affec- 
tionate and grateful to a degree, though people 
who do not like cats will tell you that they are 
never the one nor the other. 

.A long vacation, did you say ? Centun,- does not 
think it too long, I am sure ; and when did you 
ever find that fault with one of your vacations ? 


By N. p. Francis. 

ITTLE Eddy was just 

__^ three years old. His 

K^*|^^4.-'^:^2ST''c£ father was a fisher- 

^'' ■^ ' ' '" ^^ ^^j^^ . ]-,jg mother 

■";^"'^~ was a washer- 

•'" woman, and did the 

-fr/' — washing for the city people 

who came down to the beach in sum- 
mer. They were very poor folk, and lived in 
a very small house, half-way down the side of 
the bluff that runs out into the ocean. Along 
that side of the bluff, and away out across the 
beach, runs a little stream, where Eddy's mama 
used to wash the clothes when the tide was out : 
for the stream was then shallow and the water 
quite fresh. 

One day she took down a large tub full of 
clothes to wash, and while she w-orked little 
Eddy played about on the sand and dabbled 
with his little pink feet in the shallow pools of 
the creek. When the clothes were all washed 
and wrung out, she laid them in a large sheet, 
and made them up into a bundle, which she 
threw over her shoulder so as to carry it up 
the hill. She called to Eddy to go with her, 
and they started together ; but before they had 
gone very far, Eddy ran back to chase a flock 
of little sandpipers on the beach, and forgot all 
about going home. After a while he felt tired 
and sleepy. Now, it happened that his mother, 
after emptying out the wash-tub, had left it 
standing on a little sand bank near the edge of 
the bay ; and, inside of it she had left an old 
coverlet, which had served to keep the clothes 
from blowing away out of the tub when she 
brought them down. Eddy crept into the tub, 
and curled himself up in a funny little heap in 
the soft coverlet, where he soon fell fast asleep. 

Meanwhile his mother had hung out all the 
clothes on the clothes-line, and then noticed, 
for the first time, that Eddy was nowhere about. 
She called him, but not a sound answered ; she 

looked through the house, but no Eddy was 
there. Then she looked down and saw her 
wash-tub on the sand; but the little fellow in- 
side she could not see. She saw only that he 
was nowhere on the beach, and she began to 
be very much frightened ; so that, though she 
knew the tide was coming in, she could not 
even stop to save her wash-tub, but ran as 
fast as she could go to the top of the bluff 
and then down the road to the neighbors', to 
ask if any one had seen Eddy. Of course 
nobody had seen him ; and while they were 
talking about him and looking for him, the tide 
came in and floated the tub from the little 
sand bank. Now that afternoon a smart lit- 
tle breeze chanced to be blowing off shore. 
The wash-tub, with little Eddy's weight in it, 
canted over toward one side, and the opposite 
side stood high out of water and made a very 
good sort of a sail. So, instead of going up- 
stream with the tide, Eddy's new-fashioned 
boat sailed straight out to sea, passed safely 
over the tiny breakers at the mouth of the 

stream, and stood boldly i>ut, heading due east 
for the Old World. 

Eddy's father, as I said before, was a fisher- 
man. He used to go out verv earlv in the 


morning, with trawls and hand lines, sometimes 
a long way from home. After setting his trawls 
he would spend the day in fishing with his hand 
lines, and toward evening, after visiting the 
trawls and taking oft" the fish that were caught, 
he would come home, either rowing or, if the 
w'ind favored, under sail. Now, that afternoon, 
w^hile Eddy was taking his sail in the wash-tub, 
his papa was sailing home along shore in his 
boat, and he noticed something floating in the 
water a little distance out seaward. At first 
he could not make out what it was; but men 
who live much on the sea soon become very far- 
sighted, and it was not long before he saw that 
it was a wash-tub. He was very tired, and he 
knew that, if he went out to pick up the tub, he 
would have to row back against the wind ; but, 
then, he was very poor, and he thought to him- 
self how useful another wash-tub would be to 
his wife. So in spite of his weariness he turned 
his boat, and, going out before the wind, he soon 
overtook or, as the sailors say, " overhauled " the 
slow-sailing tub. 

" Why, that 's a master good tub, that is," 
said he, when he came near ; " and bless my 
heart, what 's that inside ? Why, if there ain't a 
lot of old clothes in there ! " and, so saying, he 
took hold of the tub and went to pulling out 
what he supposed to be the old clothes ; and 
just think how he felt w-hen, 
down among the folds of the 
coverlet, he found his own 
little rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed, 
yellow-haired, roly-poly baby 
that he loved so much ! 

How he hugged him and 
kissed him, and how glad he 
was that he had not been 
lazy enough to let the old "he took 

wash-tub go ! There, indeed, was a reward for 
his trouble ! 

He took little Eddy into his boat, and the 
tub, too, and then he pulled home and ran with 
the high tide right into the stream just below his 
house. His wife saw him coming, and she ran 
down toward the shore, crying as if her heart 
would break ; and with her came some of the 
kind neighbors, who were doing all they could 

to comfort her. One of them told her that her 
wash-tub was in the boat ; but what did she care 
for the tub, when she had lost her little darling ? 
She did n't even look up. Nobody saw Eddy ; 
for he had soon gone to sleep again, and was 
lying on the bottom of the boat all covered up 
in his papa's big pea-jacket. 

When the boat touched the sand, and was 
drawn up high and dry, Eddy's father stepped 
up to the women and asked what they were all 
crying about. But he did n't wait for the an- 
swer, for the tears stood thick in his own eyes. 
'' Look 'e here, Marj'," said he, " I 've brought 
ye back your tub ; and what d' ye s'pose I 
found in it ? " and with that he caught up the 
boy from the stern of the boat and laid him in 
his mother's arms. 

Of course I need not try to tell you how glad 
she was to see her 
heedless wanderer 
again. She took 
Eddy up to their 
house, and gave 
him a good supper, 
and put him into 
his little crib. 


The next day nearly all the boarders at the 
beach came to see the little sailor boy that went 
to sea in a tub ; and when they saw what nice 
people Eddy's parents w-ere, and how very poor, 
they collected a good sum among themselves, 
and they bought the poor fisherman a fine sail- 
boat ; so after that he made a good living by 
taking out people that wanted a sail. And little 
Eddy often went out with them. 


"f®^ ^^£ 


w -^'H ••2-W^'^KMWir'^i^^i^^^i 

4 -V 






•^ uri^^ 




By E. |. Glave. 

The Zanzibaris have played a noble part in 
Central Africa. They have been the compan- 
ions of many white travelers in that wild land, 
and to their zeal, courage, and loyalty is history 
greatly indebted for the exploration of the Dark 
Continent. Under the standard of those Anglo- 
Saxon heroes, Stanley, Livingstone, Burton, 
Speke. Grant, the natives have done wonderful 

No nobler record of absolute devotion to 
duty on the part of blacks exists than " Through 
the Dark Continent," in the pages of which the 
graphic pen of Stanley thrilled the hearts of all 
nations with the brilliant narrative of the deeds 
of his heroic followers — of those adventurous 
and plucky spirits who left home and friends 
in Zanzibar, enrolled themselves under the two 
great Anglo-Saxon banners, the " Stars and 
Stripes " and the British " Union Jack," and re- 
mained with their noble leader, Stanley, through 
thick and thin — repelled the persistent attacks 
of hostile savages, bore sickness, privation, and 
hunger, and remained unconquered till their 
work was accomplished and Africa had been 

During Stanley's last triumphal success, re- 
lieving Emin Pasha from the fanatic hordes 
of the Mahdi, the young Zanzibar!, Saleh Bin 
Osman, served with great distinction and by his 
loyal conduct gained the confidence of " Buana 
Mkubua," " Big Master," which, as 1 have told 
you, is the name by which these peoj)le knew 

After accompanying Stanley through Dark- 
est Africa, he returned with the expedition to 
Zanzibar, and remained with his leader while 
the explorer narrated to ."America his stirring 

Being conversant with Ki-Swahili, the lan- 
guage of the Zanzibaris, I have had several 

interesting chats with young Saleh, and in the 
following short article I have translated from 
his own tongue some anecdotes and incidents 
which happened on the march and in camp 
during the travels of the e.xpedition. 

Early in 1887, Stanley arrived at Zanzibar, in 
command of the " Emin Relief Expedition," 
for which Mr. Mackenzie, who was acting as 
agent, had gone on ahead in order to recruit 
Zanzibari followers. 

Among the candidates for enlistment was 
Saleh bin Osman, who, although he had never 
made a journey with Stanley, had accompanied 
white travelers in some parts of Eastern Africa 
and the island of Madagascar. 

Saleh "signed on" as a servant, and owing 
to his superior intelligence was soon appointed to 
be chief of all the black servants of the force. 

The expedition remained at Zanzibar but three 
days. Six hundred and twenty Zanzibaris in all 
were engaged, and as they were duly enrolled 
on the Expedition books they were sent off in 
barges and placed on board the " Madura," a 
steamer chartered to convey the party from 
Zanzibar around the Cape of Good Hope to 
the mouth of the Congo. 

When all arrangements were complete, and 
the Kaa Heris (good-bys) had been said by the 
enlisted men to their friends who came off in 
dhows and canoes, the Madura hoisted her 
anchor and steamed away to the southward. 

The Zanzibari force was now divided into 
companies, and the white officers of the ex- 
pedition received their respective commands. 
The boys who had engaged as servants were 
also told off to their difterent masters, and Saleh 
liin Osman became Stanley's body servant. 

After a few days' steaming, the Madura ar- 
rived at Cape Town. Some of the white ofli- 



cers and Tippu Tib went ashore, but the 
Soudanese and Zanzibaris were not permitted 
to do so, as such liberty would be taken ad- 
vantage of by some of the disorderly. 

But a day or two was spent at Cajie Town, 
and then the ship steamed away for the west 
coast of Africa, and arrived a few days later at 
the mouth of the Congo. Here the expedition 
was transferred to smaller boats, and the whole 
force, white and black, was conveyed to Ma- 
tadi, one hundred miles up the Congo River. 

When the Expedition was landed at Matadi, 
all the men received their rifles and ammuni- 
tion. Each of the blacks had quite a bulky 
package of his own private property, a mis- 
cellaneous assortment of odds and ends, no doubt 
valuable additions to comfort, but superfluous 
weight on the march. So when each man re- 
ceived a load of sixty-five pounds weight to carry 
two hundred odd miles, besides the several 
pounds of rations for the journey, all those 
private packages had to be abandoned by their 
mourning ow-ners. 

Previous to receiving their heavy loads, the 
Zanzibaris had been full of good spirits, — prob- 
ably expecting a continuation of the enjoyable 
existence so comfortably passed on the good 
ship Madura, — but the weighty cases of car- 
tridges and the big steep hills ahead which had 
to be climbed, brought unhappiness and ren- 
dered the men dejected. Instead of dancing 
and singing throughout the evening as before, 
the camp looked glum and miserable as the 
smoldering campfires lit up the sadly meditative 
faces of the silent throngs who saw their time 
of ease and comfort was at an end, and realized 
that arduous toil was ahead of them. 

The white traveler who has performed the 
overland march from Matadi to Stanley Pool can 
heartily sympathize with the black porter who 
manfully struggles up the steep, rocky incHne 
of Pallaballa, Congo Di Lemba, or staggers 
almost stifled through the suffocating valley of 
Lakanga. The white man makes the marches 
unhampered liy unnecessary clothing, and then 
flatters himself he has performed a wonderful 
feat of endurance. 

Saleh said it was curious to watch Stanley's 
white officers when they were first introduced to 
chiquanga, a kind of pudding made of boiled 

mani(jc njot. Neither llic taste nor odor of 
this food is at all inviting at first ; but necessity 
brings all whites as well as blacks to regard it as 
the bread of life before many months of 
dence in Central Africa. 

Sometimes when deprived of it for many days 
I have often hailed a piece of toasted chiijiiatiga 
as a real luxury, and I have been rather dis- 
gusted with newly arrived whites whose upturned 
noses condemned my barbaric taste. 

When Stanley's white officers had finished 
their small stock of tinned provisions and rice, 
they were absolutely compelled to fall back on 
the manioc dishes ; but the sourness of taste of 
this African pudding is a serious barrier to the 
enjoyment of it, and some stubborn persistence 
is required before the white man hails chi- 
qiiatiga as a delicacy ; but like other white trav- 
elers, these officers began to like it, and when 
they passed beyond the districts where it grew, 
and were forced to adhere to a roast plantain 
diet, they regretted bitterly that they had no 

As all the world knows by Stanley's account, 
the advance column of the expedition had a 
hungry journey in their march through the 
great forest. For days and days, both whites 
and blacks lived upon mushrooms and the acid 
fruit of the india-rubber vine. 

Saleh is eloquent in his tributes to Stanley's 
wonderful influence during this trying time, 
saying that it was his personal example in 
enduring hardship, and his consoling presence 
that kept up the spirits of the men. 

The marches, owing to the weakness of the 
men, were but a few miles a day, when a halt 
would be called and everybody would be sent 
into the jungle to search for food. Saleh cited 
an incident which illustrates the condition of 
mind and body to which these poor creatures 
had been reduced. 

One day they had stopped as usual, after a 
short march, in order to hunt for food. Two of 
the Zanzibaris, Asumani and Ismail, wandered 
oft' together for the purjjose of finding mahiingu 
(india-rubber fruit). After they had penetrated 
a little way into the, Asumani espied a 
rich cluster of the fruit, and pointed it out to 
his friend, but told him that as he had been the 
first to see it, he considered that it was his, 



and advised his friend Ismail to go and find 
another such lot himself. The other suggested 
that such selfishness was not right in hungry 
times. These two men, made weak by many 
days of starvation, after a harsh discussion de- 
termined to fight. They closed, but had not 
sufficient strength for fighting. They sat down 
breathless and glared. When sufficiently re- 
covered to speak, Ismail said he would seek 
another tree. 

Then Asumani started to scale the tree. 
Ismail's wits had been sharpened by hunger, 
and under the circumstances he considered a 
little deceit quite pardonable. So he quietly 
hid under the tree his friend had climbed. 
Asumani ate ravenously of the ripened mabungu 
fruit, and then threw some to the ground, in- 
tending to pick it up and take it to camp with 
him. He little dreamed that Ismail, hidden be- 
neath, was disposing of it as fast as it fell. 

By and by Asumani became exhausted and 
decided to descend. But he had not sufficient 
strength to support his own weight, and he fell 
from a height of fifteen feet down upon his friend. 

Amid groans and hard breathing, they again 
tried to settle differences by a contest ; but it 
was of no use, they were too weak. They 
limped back to camp. Having arrived in a 
village where they got abundance of corn, ban- 
anas, goats, and fowls, they told how Ismail had 
obtained the yellow rubber-fruit, and recounted 
Asumani's abrupt descent from the tree. 

During the very hungriest time spent by 
Stanley's expedition in going through the dense 
forest, it happened that the discovery of a little 
child of the dwarf tribe proved truly provi- 

Upon approaching one of the settlements of 
these people, the natives, fearing that the Arabs 
were upon them, hastily retreated to the depths 
of the jungle, leaving in the village one of the 
voung children. He was an ungainly little crea- 
ture, and from Saleh's description had an enor- 
mously big head, protruding lower jaw, lean 
frame, and ungainly, fat body. The Zanzibaris 
sat about in dejected groups, complaining of 
their present hard existence, and the sad contrast 
of to-day with their joyous life in their island 
home away in the Indian Ocean. 
Vol. XVIII.— 56. 

The little Teki-Teki (pigmy), although not 
more than three years old, was busily search- 
ing for something in the dry leaves. The Zan- 
zibaris were attracted by the child's activity. 
Presently the sparkle of his eyes and the increased 
earnestness of his hunt showed that he had been 
successful ; and, indeed, he returned to the 
camp-fire carrying a lot of pods like enormous 
beans. These he scraped to a fine powder, 
which he damped, rolled in some big leaves, 
and then toasted in the ashes. When cooked 
to his satisfaction he opened the dainty package 
and the whole camp became filled with the 
pleasant odor of this new dish. The men of 
the expedition then closed round and, much to 
the young Teki-Teki's disgust, helped them- 
selves to a tasting pinch. The Zanzibaris knew 
the tree quite well ; it was the " iiiakneiiie." This 
new discovery brought a gleam of hoi^e to the 
hearts of these hungry beings. The capture of 
the tiny woodsman was a godsend, and Saleh 
said that had this unhappy little creature but 
faintly understood their language he would 
have been overwhelmed with the heartfelt bless- 
ings showered on him. \ few days afterwards 
another tribe of these same small people was 
met, and the child was handed over to them to 
be returned to his parents. 

One evening the expedition arrived at Kort 
Bodo, after the long, hungry march and many 
days of anxiety because of the continued fights 
with cannibals and dwarfs. Now they could 
have good food in place of the fungi and wild 
fruits on which they had been living for many 
months. The groups of laughing men clustering 
round the big camp-fires seemed to be on good 
terms with themselves and were well contented. 

This particular evening Saleh passed with 
three friends, who formed a select little jiart)- 
around a big, steaming saucepan. They were 
saying, " We have passed the hunger-stricken 
forest and shall soon be strong again. Man\ 
have fallen by the way ; all we can do or say 
will not bring them back again. Let us who 
remain at least be happy and regain as quickly 
as possible our health and strength." .Ml 
agreed to make the best of their lot. 

"Who can tell us a good story?" said one. 

Another native answered, " I will tell you a 
stOH' of the ;uiimals long ago. It is a story of: 



The Cat and thi'. Rat. 

The cat and the rat lived on the island 
Miota, all alone. The rat said, " Let us go to 
the island of Joanna, for if we get sick no one 
would care for us." So they started to go seven 
hundred miles in a canoe made of a sweet po- 
tato. The rat rowed till he became tired and 
cross, and began to eat the potato. The cat 
said, " Row on," but the rat said, " I am tired ; 
you row awhile." So the cat rowed till she 
was tired, and she fainted. Tlie first thing 
they knew the boat was sinking. 

The cat said, " Now, I am going to eat you, 
for you ate my boat." 

The rat said, " No ; if you eat me in the water 
you will die. Just wait till, we are on land." 
They swam to the island Miota, and the rat 
began to dig a hole and said, " Wait till I dig 
some roots before you eat me, then you will 
have a nice dinner." When the rat finished 
the hole, they fought for a long time ; then the 
rat ran into the hole all but his tail. The cat 
stayed outside and changed his voice to imitate 
the rat. He said to the rat, " Even if I die 
you will never be free, for you and all the rats 
forever will be beef and mutton for my sons 
and daughters." 

Then the cat went away and made a great 
banquet for all the animals. He told the lion 
how the rat ate his canoe. The lion said, 
" Had I been you I would have killed the rat 
for eating your canoe ! " The lion then roared 
and said, " I give orders for the cats to eat the 
rats forever ! " The rabbit, who was sitting near, 
and was the judge of the animals, said, " Why 
so ? " The lion answered, " For eating the 
canoe." The rabbit said, " The rat did right 
for he was hungry. You think you are king 
but I know somebody stronger than you." 
The lion, irritated by the rabbit's talk, angrily 
asked him, " Who can be stronger than I ? " 
The rabbit, trembling at the glare and roar of 
the lion, said, " I know you are powerful and 
terrible and are able to kill other animals, and 
successfully batde even with men, but I am 
sure Mze Nyaa [Old Man Hunger] is your 
master." The lion jeered contemptuously at 
the little animal and said in scorn, " You are 

an idiot, my little friend. Mzd Nyaa cannot 
conquer me. I challenge him to a duel." " All 
right," said the rabbit ; " 1 know where he 
lives. I will go after the banijuet and tell 
him what you say, and in a few days' time 1 
will return again and let you know what he 

The rabbit then hopped away, and selecting a 
quiet spot in the depths of the forest he built a 
strong house of heavy jjosts stoutly fastened to- 
gether. This little rabbit superintended the 
construction, the other animals in the woods 
lending a helping hand, being always willing to 
render any assistance to thwart their old tyrant 
the lion. When everything was completed to 
the rabbit's satisfaction he again sought an in- 
terview with the lion, and said : 

" I have seen Mze Nyaa, who scorns your de- 
fiance and has appointed a meeting-place for the 
conflict, to which I will conduct you when you 
are ready." 

" We will go now," said the lion. " I am too 
angry for any delay." 

So the little rabbit piloted the great forest king 
through the quiet paths to the little stockaded he had recently constructed. 

" If you will just lie down in there," said the 
rabbit, " Mze Nyaa will appear." 

The lion innocently walked into the trap and 
the rabbit closed and firmly barred the iloor. 
The rabbit then gaily scampered off to receive 
congratulations from the other animals for the 
success of the ruse, and the lion was left in silent 
conflict with Mze Nyaa. 

.\fter a few days the little rabbit approached 
the trap. The lion was now shrunk to a skele- 
ton ; he pleaded hard, but it was of no avail. 
" Continue the contest," said the rabbit. 

Day after day the little animal appeared, until 
the captive died of hunger. 

Ever after that the rabbit was king, but he 
lived in a hole in the ground. The animals said 
as he was so small it would be better to keep 
himself from danger. 

" Now," said the story-teller, " during our 
recent travels we were the lions and Hunger 
was the master. In his grasp we were weak as 
women, though we feared not wild beast nor 
savage man." 


{As lolii hv Sah-li and liCordcJ in shorthand.) 

I BORN in July 9, 187 1. My mother was America you call him schoolmaster. He change 

ilead when I three years old. When I was one my name and call him "Saleh," mean " honey ": 

year older, I go to my mother sister, and stay and when I ten year old, I finish all .school and 

with her. When I get four year old, my father went to my father, and taker me one year to 

send me school to read Koran, and then when stay with my father. When I get ten year, he 

I seven year old I begin to read the Bible, and taker me travel to India, Bombay, Calcutta, 

finish when I eight year old the Bible. The Bungola, and come back to Zanzibar, 
schoolmaster name is " Shayhah " ; over in He asker me, " Which kine business you 


like ? " I say, " I liker make shop, fruit-shop " ; 
ami then lie give me 40 dollar, and I go to my 
iVen [friendj and he give 40 dollar, and then to 
'nother Iren, he give 40 dollar, and then we 
make bisness. We sell cokenuts, orange, and 
mango, and sweet lemon. And then my fren 
he tol' me " This maker dirty bisness, much 
better to buy boat, a little rowboat," and we 
pay 200 dollar, and that 's all money we got. 

When 'Merican manwah [man-of-war] come, 
we bring people down ; and next time we went 
to go, the sea very bad, and boat he go down, 
and one my fren no swim, he wear heavy jacket, 
and he go down dead. And we swim to man- 
wah, and 'nother boat he come and bring us to 
shore, and all people say my fault, because I at 
the head of the bisness, and I mad. And he say 
I be liker to get a plent' money quick ! And my 
father was cross-to me because all people say that 
my fault. I run away and went to Malagascar 
I Madagascar] ; and all money I get I got 20 
rupee |rupee, 40 cts.] in my pocket. 

When we 'rive to Malagascar, we stop at 
Noosbay. All French people, and master asker 
me for passage. I broke French. I say, " How 
much ? " He say, " Twenty rupee," and I say, 
■' That 's all money I got." He say, " I don't 
care, I want twenty rupee, now, quick ! " I give 
it him, and I don't got any money in my 
pocket. And I went in police station, and 
soon I see myself, and I set down and cry. 
When watchman come, asker me, " Why you 
cry ? " He think somebody beat me. I told I 
cry because I no home this country, no fren. 
He asker me what language speak. I say, " I 
speak Arab " ; and he laugh me, and say you 
can't go far, we no speak Arab in this coun- 
try [Madagascar]. I stayed there till half-past 
five, and see him, he bring in tin, a small tin 
liker a cup, and it inside no sugar, no milk. A 
piece bread he giver me, and said, " That all I 
have in my supper. Have no better sujjper." 
And I say, " Thank you to God, and thank you 
to yourself." And then he show me place and 
say, " You go down there." In evening rain 
come and sundercome [thunder come], and I 
fright. And I don't got blanket, don't got pil- 
low, just sleep in groun. And when rain come, 
and I up and I sit down, and I cry. 

In morning I went to French town, and I 


see big big man, and he say to me, " Hello, boy! 
what you do here ? " Because he know me very 
well, because 1 dress different ; I dress Zanzi- 
bar dress. He say, " You Zanzibar boy." I 
said, " Yes. I don't know anybody here." He 
say, " Come with me." .'\nd I go to him. .\nd 
he told me, " I want you to go to my wife, and 
carry bag, and to go with her all places she go, 
when she go for walk." This man Frenchman. 
He name Admirally Pierre. He fight in Mala- 
gascar. And he taker me in his manwah, and 
taker me to his wife ; and she be glad. She 
say, " I tried to fintl Zanzibar boy when I there, 
to teacher me Zanzibar language." 

Half-past four we went down .shore, in town, 
and she buy too much cloths, and guve to me, 
and she told to me, " I want you to throw 
'way dirty cloths you got." And I throw 'way, 
and dress fine. 

We sail from Noosbay to Junka, and we fight 
there for seven day. That was the native Mala- 
gascar, called "Hover"; yellow, liker Chinese. 
Got two name, the other name we call him 
" Wambalambo." When we fight we stay there 
for two mont's. And Madam Pierre she show 
very kine for me, liker my mother. .And 
then I teach her in Zanzibar tongue for two 
mont's, and then she speaker me very well. 
When I say something to her she understan'. 
And then she asker me everything 'bout my.self. 
an' I told her how I come. She said, " I am 
very sorry for you, I maker you happy just liker 
mother." .Vnd then she say, " I want you 
teacher me Zanzibar language, and 1 want 
you learn Malagascar, because when Admirally 
go home he will want you interpreter, and on 

He got two boys, and he say, " Now, Saleh, 
you taker walk with these boys every day and the\- 
teacher you. You go dow-n city, and they tell 
you name everything." One boy told me some- 
thing and I put down Arab, and I learn quick 
in four months. And Madam go home, and she 
say, "Admirally, taker care Saleh, he good boy." 
And then my bi.sness was carry Admirally's riHe 
and glass when we go in shore. And on man- 
wah I have nothing do, and sit down and 
eat and dress nice. And then he call me, " Saleh, 
my boy," in Zanzibar language, because he 
s[)eak Zanzibar first class. One day he called 


me in morning and give me letter, and I open 
and fine Madam's picture and little gold ring. 

Madam go home, write Admirally, " Please 
bring Saleh home, we show people, and we send 
him back to Zanzibar." One day in morning he 
called me, we go shoot guinea-fowl, and taker 
clean and bring to Madam when we go to 
France. And we went there and shoot one, 
and he send me look for it, and 
he forget I there, and he shoot and 
his bullets come through my ear, and 
1 fall down and cry loud, and he come 
and looker, and then throw 'way 
his gun, and call somebody taker 
me 'way to manwah. And he taker 
care for me, and when I get better 
he finish his business himself, and 
we sail for Marseilles, France. And 
then he ketch fever in sea, and when 
he go to Marseilles he sick seven 
day, and he dead. And his wife 
she was good to me and sen' mc 
back to Zanzibar. 

I was glad to go back, but I was 
sorry to lose Admirally because he 
was good to me. I was glad to go 
home, but I was sorry to leave 
Madam because she nicer lady. 

That all my story travel in Mala- 
gascar with Admirally. 

My uncle, Tippu Tib, told me 
much' about Mis'r Stanley. He 
know him. He Mis'r Stanley's fren. 
When Mis'r Stanley 'rive in Zanzi- 
bar, that maker me to go with him 
in Africa because I think I travel all 
same liker I travel in Malagascar. I 
find Mis'r Stanley nices' man I ever 
see. He is strong man, and very clever man. 
He is a very good shot. He is strong for march. 
He is clever for caravan. He has six hundred 
twenty-one Zanzibars, and all liker him, all 
speaker good for him. He think all time for 
his people. This Dark Forest, we don't have 
car'age there, no horse, no donkey, no camel, no 
railway, you know very well. This travel every- 
body must carry his rifle, his cloths, tent, and 
ammunition. And this Dark Forest, all bush 
and trees very very high, — big! People live in 
this Dark Forest, cannibals and pigmies. This 


little people, this pigmies are 'bout two feet and 
half big. The pigmies not strong 'nough for 
grow anything. They maker iron, they maker 
fine powsen [poison], and they go round ele- 
phant, because they so small he no see them, 
and they shoot him in eyes with powsen arrow, 
and before long he fall down dead. And they 
go to village and call big natuve, we call 

Wasamgora and cannibals. Pigmies have no 
big knife, [and bring other natives] because 
they got knives to cut elephant. Now this 
big natuve he come cut all meat and divide, 
and taker half, and half he leave to pigmies. 
These cannibals (Wasamgora) eat man the 
same they eat beef and mutton. And we 
have cannibal man, he belong to Emin Pasha, 
and his name we call Binsa. Emin Pasha give 
him to ])octer Junker and taker to Zanzibar, 
and he went with us in .\frica. He is not 
cannibal now. 



I think Mis'r Stanley is very fine man. We 
lose many people in Dark Forest for hunger. 
I don't forget why 1 say Mis'r Stanley is very 
fine man, he think for his people more than for 
himself. One day he told me, " I think I liker 
my people very much, because my people is 
my home. If I lose my people I can't go any- 
where." All native in Africa liker Mis'r Stan- 
ley. Ev'rything he want and do, he call his 
people, asker first. And me sure many people 
say Mis'r Stanley bad man — all je'lus, have 
nothing in head, all head full flies. I see .six 
hundred people myself liker Mis'r Stanley, 
speak well for him. I been three year and half 
with him, he teach me very well. I enjoy my 
travel with him. He bring me back to Zanzibar, 
home. I asker him to come to Europe with him. 
I come for good time with him in Europe. He 
is here July, and have wife, good heart and 
fine looking. We all went through Europe, 
France, Germany, Italy, Switz'land, come back 

to London and went to Scotlan' and Irelan' and 
all over Englan'. He taker me over here to 
'Merica now, and I liker 'Merica very much. 
I think there is nice ladies in 'Merica. And 
I think there is nice boys and girls. I think 
they have nice schools in 'Merica. I believe 
this is a rich country. I been in New York, 
Brooklyn, New Jersey, Springfield, Boston, 
Worcester, Providence, Chelsea, Rochester, 
Buffalo, Cleveland, Chicago, and too many 
places in all the country that no have time to 
say, and I forget his name. 

I have no time to tell you how good time I 
have this country. I like this country very 
much. I write book in Arab, and I go to pub- 
lish when I go home. I have no time tell you 
how fine ladies this country. How fine boys. 
I 'm sure I got something to say when I get 
home. Goo'-bye. I sail Wednesday to Englan'. 
Soon as I get to Englan' I go home to Zanzibar. 
Saleh Bin Osman, 

0/ the Stanley Expedition /or the Relief 0/ Emin Pasha. 


By Mrs. E. T. Corbett. 

Down in the rushes, beside the pool, 
The frogs were having a singing-school ; 
Old frogs, young frogs, tadpoles and all. 
Doing their best at their leader's call. 
He waved a grass-blade high in the air. 
And cried, " Ker-chunk ! '" which means 

" Prepare ! " 
But the youngest singer took up the strain. 
And sang " Ker-chunk " with might and 

The others followed as he sang ; 
'■ Ker-chunk " their voices loudly rang. 
Until their leader so angry grew 
He sna])ped his baton quite in two, 
And croaked, " Oh, wrong ! oh, wro-ong ! 

oh, wro-ong ! " 
Which his class mistook for another song. 
■\t that, their leader had hopped away — 
■ Ker-chunk ! oh, wro-ong ! " I heard him 

Then /?«?/>.' he went, right into the pool. 
.\nd that was the end of the singing school. 



A RABBIT met a donkey. 

"What a queer little horse!" thought the rabbit, "and — my, what 
g ears ! " 

" What a strange cat ! " thought the donkey, " and — my, what Ijig ears ! " 
But all they said was, " Good day." 





" Next to fine-weather friends," the Deacon 
says, "come warm-weather friends" — and yet I 
do not see why, nor can I see what friends have to 
do with the weather any way, unless it is to make 
dark days bright and fine days finer. However, 
be that as it may, all my friends this month are 
warm-weather friends or none at all, and in my 
opinion the sooner there 's a coolness among us 
the better. 

Here is an idea for you : Whenever you are too 
warm think of ice, spell ice, say ice to yourselves 
over and over till you feel better. 

Now, if you are quite comfortable, we '11 take up 
the matter of 


1 )E.\R Jack : The " dispyofortionahlcness " of the lengtli 
of the two "Long Words'" in your June sermon, to wliat 
should be expected from such wee-uns as we be, is a 
matter of" incompn'hensibleiiess.^^ 

Here are seven letters from whicli four good English 
words can be made, using all the letters for each word: 

C D L M A E I. 

Will you give your hearers and the Little School- 
ma'am a chance to work them out? .-Vrum. 


Here is a capital little seaside story, with not 
sufficient moral to dry it up entirely, sent me on 
purpose for you by your friend Tudor Jenks ; 

" Dear mother," cried a little crab, " I 'd like to see a 

man I 
1 've never yet set eyes on one. Oh, tell me when 1 

can ! " 
" Why, come with me," his mother said, and took him 

nearer sliore. 
" What luck! " said .she. " Here comes one now. Pray 

scan him o'er and o'er." 
The crablet waved his liigh-stalked eyes and clasped 

his claw^i with joy. 

" lichoUl," then spoke the mother wise, "the kind of 

man called ' Boy.' 
Those boys arc dreadful creatures, love. He careful 

where you roam. 
Look out! Avoid tliat net ! That 's right. We 'd 

better sidle home." 
.\way they shd ; and. safe at home, the crablet straight 

To tell his mother what he tliought of that strange 

creature man. 
" How awkward it does seem," said he, "and yet I see 

it 's true. 
While we walk straight on eight small legs, he goes 

sideways on two ! 
His shell looks soft and seems to be a kind of sickly 

Much uglier than our dull green and lovely brown, 

I think. 
Witli his small claws how could he tear the weakest 

fish in two? 
And if he tried to fight a crab — 1 don't see what 

he 'd do ! 
His eyes are flat. How can he look behind him in 

the sea ? 
I can't see how he lives at all. What use can such 

things be?" 
" 'T is hard to tell," the mother said. " Your father used 

to say 
That boys and nets were trials, love, and useful in 

this way : 
When youthful crabs are lazy, and won't learn to swim 

with speed, 
These creatures come to punish them, and on their 

bodies feed ! 
So walk as fast as you know how, and swim and di\e 

with care. 
That when the boys with nets shall scoop, they will 

not find you there. 
Remember your dear father's fate — a crab came back 

to me 
To bring your father's parting words, just as he left 

the sea. 
How carefully I 've treasured up his last, his dying 

'Pinch all that 's small or weak,' said he, 'and run 

from all that "s large. ' " 


Whether animals think or not (and Jack thinks 
they do), certain it is that the question put from 
this Pulpit in May has set my youngsters thinking. 
Letters have come in from all parts of the world, 
and more, too. Last month 1 showed you as many 
as I conveniently could, and now out of many 
good letters at hand, so to speak, I shall give you 
two that must be thought over by yourselves in 
shady groves when you are not dallying with 

Grand RArins, Mich. 

Dear Jack : In the May St. Nicholas a girl wanted 
to know if horses, cows, cats, and dogs, etc., have Ian 
guages of their own. 

My opinion is, that dogs do, but I don't know much 
about the horses and cows. Here is my proof: 

I have a dog. His name is " Nanki Poo" (commonly 
called ; he lias a friend, our neighbor's dog, 
" Don." For two years these dogs have been together, 
both going to school with me. Every lime I go out fish- 
ing they go, too, and the boys became quite interested in 
their friendship. 

.\notlK"r neighbor bought a ilog, and he tried to get 


80 1 

into society with Don and Nank. Nank, however, took 
a dislike to this dog, and Don liked him. 

Don and Nank did not go together any more, since 
Don paid any attention to the other dog. Nank proba- 
bly said in dog-language, " Don, if you go with that other 
ugly dog any more, I MI drop you." 

And so he did. The other dog is either dead or has 
run away, but Nank has never had anything more to do 
with Don. Father said it was jealousy, but mama and I 
don't think so. Yours truly, Geo. B. E . 


The other story is this one, which comes from 
Augusta, Maine. 

Dear Jack: of the officers at the Soldiers' Na- 
tional Home, Togus, Maine, owned two dogs, a thorough- 
bred greyhound and a pure-blooded silver " Skye." 
One day the servant went to the gentleman and told 
him the sugar was disappearing faster than they used it ; 
he said, " You must watch, and find out, if possible, who 
takes it." A few days later she 
came to tell him it was his grey- \ 
hound who was the thief. He loved 
his pet and could not punish him, 
so he told tile servant that she must. 

In what wav the beautiful creature 
was corrected I do not know, but he 
remembered the lesson, and did not 
go again himself for the much-loved 
sweet. For some days the sugar 
was untouched ; then it was seen to 
disappear too fast again. A second 
watch showed that the greyhound, "^ 
remembering his correction, but 
longing for the dainty, must have 
communicated with his little com- 
panion, and he, the little Skye, not 
loving sugar himself, stole it for his mate. 
He was seen to go for it, and carry it to the V 
larger dog. 

-As their fond master says, " I have no 
question in my own mind but that they had 
a language by which they communicated 
their wishes and desires to each other." 

The proof to me seems strong that the hound reasoned 
to himself that the terrier, not loving sugar, would not 
be suspected of the theft and watched and punished as he 
had been. If they had not " talked " it over, how could 
lie know that his faithful little friend did not love sugar, 
and would help him in his trouble ? 

Yours sincerely, 

Lucy Williams C . 


Here is a very interesting article lately sent for 
your amusement and instruction by a very observ- 
ing friend of nature and of St. Nicholas: 

Dear Jack : WHien the wind is blowing fresh, the 
spiders' beautiful webs are likely to be broken at any 
moment, and without a web the spider can have nothing 
to eat. To prevent such an accident requires its con- 
stant attention, and like the ciptain of a ship the brave 
little animal takes up its position in the center of its silken 
home and remains there until the "blow" is over. 

Here the spider is in full control. The middle of the 
web is the central station to which all news relating to its 
glistening domain is sent. Every vibration, even at the 
mostdistant point, is instantly telegraphed to headquarters, 
and if the news be of vital importance, the spider leaves 

for the scene of danger at once. There it may find that a 
strand has broken loose which, unless instantly repaired, 
will completely ruin the web. 

But sometimes the accident is of such a nature that to 
repair the damage calls for considerable ingenuity. For 
instance, the loiver part of the web is often fastened to a 
weed. When the wind begins toblow, the weed gently bows 
its head, and the danger to the web becomes very great; 
another bow more lowly than before, and the strands snap, 
leaving the web flapping like a sail in a wind. The spider 
hurries down, but everything is in confusion; the broken 
strands are flying in all 
directions. Tofastenthem 
to the weed again is out 
of the question, and yet 
something done, 
and done at once. 

Well, this is the way 

one little spider 
''-- solved the diffi- 
culty. It quickly low- 
ered itself to the ground, 
. and procured a small 
chip of wood around 
which it fastened a 
thread. It then hung this to 
the lower part of the web with 
a strong silken cable. 

The eflect was wonderful. It 

kept the web firm, and yet 

'=*f =f=~-^ - a.^ " gave " enough to yield to the 

wind. Accidentally it was 

knocked off', but the spider recovered it and hung it as 

before. The web suffered no further injury although the 

wind blew very hard. 

Some spiders use a very small stone instead of a chip of 
wood, and even fasten the weight to a web which is five 
or six feel from the ground. 

Yours very truly, M. N . 

May I ask a question? In what manner do flies — 
the house-fly, of course, miisca domcstica — alight on the 
ceiling? They fly wings uppermost, and must turn round 
altogether to get their feet highest. They strike with 
their forefeet I suppose, and pivot on those, but my best 
attention has failed to prove my theory. 

Sincerely yours, H. S. Sani'ORI), Jr. 

By Ckokgf, 1'. Merrill. 

'^^' ' i\¥^'^ 

-^ 1) c \iiiL -lolid lock and crsstiUized f)rminj, ni ir- 
^^/jbk — white ind blue vcintd ind m ttkd imrblc, 
' SI ch IS « s used to build tht CTpitol it \\ isliing- 
l )n, and is btin„ used the world o\tr c\cr) day 
• '< -' In this way, beds of marble were formed all along 

western Vermont, Massachusetts, and Connecticut ; 
The deep cleft in the ground, shown in the pic- and when the earth's crust became folded up in 
ture on the opposite page, is a marble quarry in the great wrinkles and the ocean disappeared, soil 
greenhillsof western Vermont. Unnumbered years spread rapidly over these beds, and trees and 
ago, before even the Rocky or Alleghany Mountains shrubs grew upoiT it. There for whole ages it 
were formed, this partof the United States, now cov- lay in the ground until the earth was no longer 
ered by beautiful fields and wooded hills, lay buried young but was old ; until after countless years 
by the waters of a great ocean. And in this ocean man was created ; until after hundreds and thou- 
thcre lived and died, year after year, shell-fish and sands of years of living in caves, tents, or houses 
corals and a thousand interesting and curious crea- built of mud, men in America began to build 
tures. Those of us who have stood on the sea-shore houses of wood, brick, and stone: and these beds 
when the tide wasout, have seen that the muddy bot- were undiscovered even until more than three huii- 
tom was formed of pebbles, broken shells, whole dred years after America was discovered by Colum- 
shells, perhaps with the animals still in them, sea- bus ; then marble was needed and men began to 
urchins, sea-weeds, and a great variety of creatures, quarry it as will be described. 
Now, in just the same way, on the bottom of this At the Vermont quarries, shown in the first 
old sea a similar mud formed for no man can tell picture, the marble lies in the hillside in the form 
how many years, until at last, owing to the great of layers or beds, of from one to several feet in 
heat and pressure upon the layers far down, it thickness, some of the beds being pure white. 


while others are gray, bluish, or greenish in color 

and often beautifully mottled or veined. These 

layers are not all equally good marble, nor do 

they lie horizontally one on top the other. They 

are steeply inclined like a great pile of planks that 

have fallen over endwise, the upper ends forming 

what is now the natural surface of the ground. 

The workmenselect places 

where several of the best 

layers are lying together, 

and begin quarrying out 

the stone, following the 

beds deeper and deeper 

into the ground until at 

last the quarries come to 

be great artificial caves, 

like this one. Some 

of these quarries are 

nearly two hundred feet 

deep, and are partly 

roofed over to keep out 

rain and snow. On even 

the hottest and driest 

days it is always cool 

and damp down at the 

bottom of the quarry. 

Indeed, the water is so 

plentiful that steam 

pumps are kept at work 

night and day to pump 

out the water which 

trickles slowly througli 

crevices in the rocks 

Some old, abandoned 

quarries become great 

wells quite full of water ; 

and from them no more 

stone can be taken until 

they have been pumped 

dry again. 

Down in the quarries 
the men are at work with 
steam drills, cutting out 
the stone in huge blocks. 
These are drawn to the 
surface by means ofsteam 
derricks and wire cables. 
They are then put on rail- 
road cars and shipped 
away immediately, or they 
may be first taken to the 
shops near by (shown in 

the other picture) where they are sawed into thin 
slabs for floors, mantels, grave-stones, and so on. 
or turned on lathes into beautiful columns, or cut 
into square blocks for building houses, or perhaps 
sent to some sculptor to be car\ed into the statues 
he has modeled. But onlv the finest and whitest 


marble can be used for statues, and nearly all of it 
is brought from celebrated quarries in Italy. 

Even now we sometimes find fossil shells or 
corals imbedded in the solid rock, and we know 
they could have come there only when the stone 
was soft and mud-like. In the black marble tiles 
forming the floors of the National Museum at 

Washington may occasionally be seen white spiral 
outlines of some of these shell-fish, now dead these 
millions of years; and perhaps many of you have 
walked over them without reflecting that the firm 
rock they stood upon was once soft mud in the 
depths of an ocean. 


Contributors are respectfully informed that, between the 1st of June and the 15th of September, manuscripts can- 
not conveniently be examined at the office of St. Nicholas. Consequenlly, those who desire to favor the 
magazine with contributions will please postpone sending their M.SS. until after the last-named date. 

A coURTlcois correspondent criticizes a statement 
made in "The Land of Pluck," in the May St. Nich- 
olas, concerning the so-called " Hook and Codfish War." 
But the author did not intend to convey the idea that the 
war was due exclusively to the incident described. Ac- 
ding to some historians that trivial dispute was the 

ous. Me has since then visited our house several times 
with Mr. Glave. 

Saleh is always neat and most particular as to his 
dress. The glistening collar and cuffs are never blem- 
ished ; his straight, rather clmnky figure is usually clad 
neatly in black, while the red fez rests upon his dark 
head. He has made rapid progress in his English edu- 

spark tiiat fired the already combustible material, though P^''?"- ^?l^ in conversation and in writing. .Sometimes 
, , , ■ •. 1 1 -.1 -.u . m the midst of some excilmg narrative he wdl sudilenlv 

the war between classes was inevitable with or without ^, „„,„ -.i, ■„ „• , .1 r „ • 

stop, gaze with piercing eyes at the ceding, muttering 

that episode. the while, " Oh, what you call that word ? " But some- 
Still, another and probably better explanation of the how or other he is sure to find the missing term, and 
terms //oei and Kabbeljaauw is given in the interesting 0"ce more plunges forward. Loyalty, honor, and gener- 
letter of our kindly critic, Mr. Adrian Van Helden, "a o^>ty. dwell withm his boyish hearl, an<l he advances 

Hollander by birth and education," who says: 

" Modern historians are of opinion that the diagonal 
squares of blue and silver, resembling fish-scales, which 
constituted the livery worn by" the adherents of Count 
William (who led the cities and middle classes in their 
struggle for greater liberty and influence against the 
nobility) caused that party to be known as Codfishes; 
while, " in retaliation, the nobles were cilled Hooks, be- 
cause they tried to entrap and catch those clever fishes." 

rapidly under careful teaching. 

We greatly respect the faithful young Zanzibari, an<l 
wish him happiness and prosperity. Nettie S . 

Washinoio.v, D. C. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I will tell your readers some- 
thing about the United States Fish Comnii-sion, here in 
Washington. The object of the commission is to stock 
with fish the various rivers of the country, and to make 

scientific inquiry as to the habits, etc., and ascertain where 

the best fishing grounds are. Every spring the comniis- 
Readers of Saleh Bin Osman's quaint account of his sion raise small shad at the building here in Washington. 

life, and of Mr. E. J. Glave's interesting article concern- 
ing him, will be glad to see this letter from a Brooklyn 
girl, telling how she met Saleh after one of Mr. Stanley's 
lectures : 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Not the least remarkable of the 
party accompanying Mr. Stanley is his faithful young 
Zanzibari attendant, Saleh Bin Osman. Through the 
African forests with his leader, a helper and a comrade 
in the darkest days of the long march to Emin Pasha, 
faithful and honorable was Saleh to his chief. And 
now he has joined his fate with that of his master, and 
is as loyal as in the dreariest hours of the long march. 

The world is small after all. Not many months have 
passed since we heard that Stanley was fighting his way 
through the dark African swamp ; then we learned of hi 

As is known by most of the readers of St. Nicholas 
the shad, like other fish, only spawns — /. ('.,lays its eggs 
— once a year, in its season, which is between the months 
of April and July. It is at this time that the commis- 
sion secures the eggs. There is a station on the Potomac 
River about ten miles south of Washington, where the 
shad are caught in large nets and the eggs are extracted 
from the fish. The eggs are now sent to the main 
station in Washington in "egg crates," which are made 
especially for them. L!pon arriving at Washington they 
are put into hatching-jars. Water is kept running 
through tliese jars by a pump. The jars are all con- 
nected with each other by pipes. The eggs, being com- 
paratively heavy, sink to the bottom of the jars and thus 
escape running out at the pipe openings. .\11 that is 
needed to hatch the eggs is the constant flow of water. 
The time of hatching is from three to four days. When 

rescue of Emin Pasha, and safe arrival at Zanzibar; and the eggs hatch, the shad is only a half-inch long. They 

now in our city we have seen Mr. Stanley and heard the 
great explorer's own description of his journey. 

After the lecture, having expressed to our friend Mr. 
Clave, awish to t.alk with Saleh, wewent toward ihe green- 
room, where Saleh was waiting. Upon hearing his name 
called, the boy came quickly forward. After a few words 
with Mr. Cdave in an African language, Saleh smiled 
pleasantly at me and was presented. Saleh was in or- 
dinary dress, except that he wore the Oriental fez. 
He speaks English fairly well. I handed him a flower 
from my bouquet, and tlie gift was courteously acknow- 
ledged. He looked at me for an instant, and turning 
to Mr. Olave spoke again in his native tongue. .Vfier- 
ward I learneil that he said he was not accustomed to 
such consideration from .'\mericans. Saleh says that he 

are then put in cans and sent by express to various 
parts of the country to be put in i"ivers and thus stock 
them. Your devoted reader, He.nrv R . 

Carthage, Mo. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I am eleven years old and my 
brother is twelve. We live on a farm and have very nice 
times together. There have been several strange events 
here where we live. I '11 relate one. It was but a few 
days before Thanksgiving, therefore it was turkey catch- 
ing time. One evening all the men but papa were out 
catching them, — he was sitting witli mama at the supper- 
table. \ turkey, in wild fear for his life, seeing their light, 
flew for it, and aclu.iUy went right through a pane of 
receives a great deal more respect in London than in glass and .alighted in a platter in front of papa, who car- 
New York. ried him out. He came with such force that he scat- 
Bright as a button is the .African lad; he converses tered glass for thirty feet. Your interested reader, 
readily, and his expressions are clear and often humor- M. B. K . 




Canterbury Road, Oxford, P^nci.and. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little American girl. 
I am seven years old. We have been staying in O.xford 
for several months. Some of the gieatest colleges in 
the world are here. Christ Church is the largest col- 
lege ; the gentleman that wrote " .\lice in Wonderland " 
is there. I have been to Wadham College kitchen ; we 
saw there an old-fashioned spit with a big joint of mutton 
roasting on it ; the draught in the chimney turns a fan, 
which turns a chain, which turns the spit. At the side 
of the great chimney there is a little recess where they 
used in olden times to tie a dog who turned the spit. 
One day we went to the top of the Radcliffe Library, 
where we saw the spires, steeples, and towers ; it was 
very beautiful, for my mama tells me that e.xcept in old 
Rome there are not so many beautiful buildings in any 
city as in 0.\ford. One of the towers of Christ Church 
is called " Tom Tower." and in the top hangs " Old 
Tom." It is a very large bell, that even mama cannot 
reach around with her arms ; it strikes one hundred and 
one times at nine o'clock in the evening, and then every 
student must be in his own college. The students have 
to wear the cap and gown. 

We saw some boat races called the Torpids ; they are 
so called because of their slowness compared with the 
Oxford and Cambridge boat race. The coaches are men 
that run along on the river side and tell the men in the 
boats how to row. But the coach of the 'Varsity crew- 
rides on a horse to keep up with them, because they go 
so (luicklv. I am your admiring little reader, 



My Dear St. Nicholas : I want to tell you about 
my trip south with my grandmother. I had been kept 
in the house all winter with the whooping-cough, and 
she thought going away to a warm climate, where I could 
be out of doors, would do me good. 

I went first to St. .-Kugustine, where we stayed three 
weeks and had a very nice time. We went to the Hotel 
San Marco and had a beautiful view of the ocean from our 
windows. We went to w alk one day over to the old fort. 
Fort Marion. We saw the moat and the drawbridge, 
and the dungeon where they used to keep the prisoners. 
This is an old Spanish fort and is not used now. The 
Spaniards called it Fort San Marco, but when the Ameri- 
cans took it they changed the name to Fort Marion. 

I saw a great many oranges growing on the trees, and 
the gray moss looked very strange ; it looked like tangled 
silk hanging on the limbs of the trees. 

There was a little girl who used to come every evening 
to the hotel with a basket of orange blossoms, and roses, 
and violets to sell, and I used to go very often to play in 
a lovely garden which belonged to a friend of my grand- 
mother's. She let me play in the garden and pick the 
flowers just as I wanted to, lovely roses and violets. 

A very handsome hotel is the Ponce de Leon, named 
after the man who was always searching for the Fountain 
of Youth. 

On our way north we stayed one night and a day in 
Savannah, and one day in Augusta, then two or three 
days in Nashville, and one day in Cincinnati, and then 
home. From your little reader, 

K.vriiARiNE Lay McC . 

Sa.n Lets Omsro, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a Californian girl ; I have 
always lived here and have never been out of the Slate. 
We li\'e a mile and a half from town on a vineyard called 
" La Ladera." The house is on a hill and the view of the 
mountains and of the town is beautiful; travelers often 
come up to see it. From the town running northwest to 

the ocean are seven tall peaks. The first is the San Luis 
Mountain, the second Bishop's Peak, and the last is a huge 
rock standing in the bay and called Morro Rock. 

We have three dogs. The largest and handsomest is 
called Tito ; he is black with a white collar and tail. The 
next is Topsy ; she is a very bright one. The smallest is 
Mr. Boffin. They are very fond of going to walk up the 

I have taken you for six years and think you the best 
magazine printed. 

I am your constant reader, Alice V. B. H . 

Key to the Musical Puzzle Story Pri.n'ted i.n the 
July St. Nicholas. 

Ed Brace was such a strange little boy, that until he 
reached the age of one decade his friends all feared that 
he never would turn out a sharp man. His head was 
full of crotchets, and among them was one very had one, 
viz. : a determination not to learn his a, h, c. He would 
run away to catch dace in the brook, and pretend to be 
deaf when they called him to learn his lessons. His 
father said, " £■</ is either a natural or aflat ; I have 
little hope of him, as he shows no signs of intelligence." 
One day Farmer Brace called his son, and said, " I want a 
/measure o( corn from the mill. Here is a note to the miller. 
When he learns the tenor o{ it, he will give you the corn 
without any fee, as I cannot trust you with the money. 
Put the corn in this bag, tie it with this cord, and ho/d it 
tight." £dsQt off, but when he had gone about an eighth 
of the way, he saw old Aic, a superannuated cab horse, 
grazing in a field near by. The boy climbed the bars 
with ease, and began lo feed old Ah- with apjjles ; then 
mounting on his back he began to beat him with a staff 
which he carried in his hand. The horse started on a 
quick run across the field, and the boy was several times 
within an ace of falling off, when suddenly Abe pitched 
him over his head into a bee's nest. A bee stung him in 
the face, which began to swell rapidly. His cries rose in 
a wailing crescendo until they reached their loudest for- 
tissimo. Farmer Gaff, who was plowing in a neighboring 
field, calling "gee'' to his oxen, and trying to make them 
take an accelerando gait in place of their usual rallen- 
tando movement, now came to the bars and said to the 
boy, " I thought you were dead until I heard you scream. 
What are you doing in this quarter ^^ 

" Father bade me go to the mill," he replied, " but I 
wanted to run away, cross the high seas, scale lofty 
mountains, and treble my fortune ! " 

" You must be ofl^ your base," replied the farmer. " (Jo 
home and let your mother put you to bed." 

The boy's cries, having passed through all stages of 
diminuendo and piano, now reached \he\r finale. " Yes, 
I will," replied Ed. " I am fagged out, but I shake 
and quaver somewhat at the prospect of my punish- 
ment. Perhaps father will tie me up, and gag me, but 
the result of this adventure will last the rest of my life ; 
it will never /izflV from my memory, and I am sure I shall 
not wish to repeal it." 

" That 's right, sonny," answered the farmer. " Be 
sharp, be natural, but don't be flat ! " 


Dear St. Nicholas : Jack and I thought perhaps 
your readers might like to hear about Von Mollke's fu- 
neral from someone who had seen it, as we did yesterday. 

General von Moltke died very suddenly, after a busy 
day, for, although he was ninety-one years old, he had 
been to two public meetings and entertained friends at 
dinner in the evening of the day he died. 

The .\merican flag was the first one to be put at half- 



mast ; all the German flags, as well as those of all other 
nations, were half-masted in his honor the next day 
throughout Berlin. 

The Emperor was away from the city on a visit, but 
was telegraphed for, and returned immediately. 

.Mthough Von Moltke was a great general and a very 
celebrated man, he lived very quietly ; but it was decided 
after his death to bury him with all the honors of a king. 

The night he died a number of the commanding gen- 
erals watched over his body, and the three days before he 
was buried there was a military guard stationed in the 
room where the body lay. 

The room and the house itself were filled with flowers 
brought by friends and fellow-oflficers. 

.\11 who Wished to do so were allowed to see his body. 

We stood waiting in the crowd and scorching sun two 
whole hours before the funeral, but the military display 
and the whole pageant were well worth the trouble. 

First came the " Garde tin Corf's," allin white, on horse- 
back (the Emperor's bodyguard), then more cavalry, the 
Red, White, and Black Hussars, the Potsdam Regiment 
(soldiers of the old Emperor), then the hearse, which was 
the one used for the old Emperor and for his son. 

The hearse was drawn by six horses draped in black ; 
it was open, and on a high mass of flowers was the coffin, 
over which hung two long garlands of flowers. 

On each side of the hearse walked three officers (pall- 
bearers) carrying large wreaths, and beside these the 
members of his household; behind came six or eight 
priests, and then the Emperor on foot, with the King of 
Saxony, both in full uniform. 

Then followed crowds of officers, all walking, and the 
procession came to an end with students in their univer- 
sity garb and state officials in civilians' clothes. 

Von Moltke was buried by the side of his wife (who 
died twenty-three years ago), on his own estate at Krei- 
sau, about four hours' ride from Berlin. 

The Emperor and King followed him to the grave. 

I saw Von Moltke about a month ago out driving. He 
had a kind face, but looked his age. 

I forgot to mention that Bismarck sent a beautiful 
wreath, but was not at the funeral, although a warm per- 
sonal friend. 

Your constant readers, E. and J. B . 


Dear St. Nicholas : I thought you might like to hear 
about a fresh-water crab or crawfish. 

At this time of the year the crabs dig holes and back 
into them, so it was hard for me to get one. But at last 
I got one and put it in a dish of water. 

It was rather stupid, and so I did n't cover it. 

In the middle of the night mama heard it fall out of the 
dish and go crawling around on the floor. 

In the morning before I got dressed we tried to find 
the crab, but we could n't find it anywhere. So I started 
to put on my shoe and I could n't get my foot in the toe. 
I thought the lining was rumpled, and so I put my hand 
in, and there was the crab as surprised as I was. 

I suppose he thought he had found a hole ready made. 
Yours truly, .\dah W . 

Xfav York. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Would you like to hear a little 

of my journey to Alaska last summer ? We took a large 

steamer at Victoria, the capital of British Colutnbia, called 

the " Queen." We had a fine large stateroom with three 

berths and a sofa in it, and we sailed about three thousand 
miles in the most comfortable manner. We touched at 
several curious Indian villages, where we saw the Indian 
women making silver bracelets an<l rings. They were 
sitting on the ground and wore bright-colored blankets 
over their heads. They also weave very curious baskets 
made from the bark of a tree. 

We saw a boarding-school at Sitka, where the large 
boys played for us on the brass band. Then we saw a 
large frozen river named the Muir Glacier. The color 
of it is a beautiful bright blue, and every few minute> 
great pieces of ice fall off with a sound like thunder. 

We took all the ice for the use of the steamer from the 
glacier. While our steamer was waiting at the glacier, 
Indians came up to us in little canoes or dugouts, with 
baskets and skins to sell. There was one little boy 
dressed in an entire suit of white underclothes. He 
looked very cold, and we saw that his teeth chattered, 
and we wished very much that some one would put a 
blanket over him, which his mother finally did. 

We sailed past beautiful snow -covered mountains, and 
after touching at Juneau, Sitka, and Fort Wrangel, we 
sailed back to \'ictoria. We had a very interesting trip. 
I hope that many others will be fortunate enough to take 
the same journey. I am your little friend, 

Lily .M . 


Dear St. Nicholas : We are five little boys and ten 
little girls who have just begun reading you. Our teacher 
introduced you to us, for she loved and read you when she 
was little. We have read " Elfie's Visit to Cloudland," 
" David and Goliath," and we have read all the letters in 
the Letter-box, but have seen none from Kentucky. We 
Kentuckians are very proud of our beautiful ladies, fine 
horses, and the greatest natural wonder in the world, the 
Mammoth Cave, but not so proud of the state's great 
distilleries I 

We are known as Miss Mame's Room, and our names 

A.\NA May C. L. 
Berry C. 
.\ddie Beck W. 
Mary C. 
Willis B. 
Robert R. 

Stella R. 
Mamie Tatk C. 
J. y. C. 
Bettie C. 

Sallie F. 
Caswell McE. 

Bl.ANTON .\. 

.\FTER the July number of St. Nicholas was on the 
press, correct answers to the "What Is It? " question 
printed in the Jackin-the-Pulpit department of the St. 
Nicholas for April, were received from Caroline B. S., 
Margie F. , Hortense H. 

Wk thank the young friends whose names follow for 
pleasant letters received from them : .\ubrey G., Blanche 
and Posy, Elsa and Gretchen Van H., Georgie H. and 
Marie t., N. J. S., Willie K., M. K., Waddell K., F. 
K. Travers W., Charlotte and Jcinette, Florence H. H., 
Harry A., .\ubrey H.W., Bertha C, F. A. D., Ethel 
Leslie, Mamie L. S., Edith, Maud and May, •' Perseus," 
William J. H., Edward A.. David R., Jr.. Jeannie F., 
Elsie P., Joseph J., John McV. H., Florence W., Ethel 
R., May V., Edith B., Kittic B., Edythe P. R., Frances 
M., A. D. D., Nellie H. McC, Clare H., H. W. T., 
Walter S. 


3. Adore. 4. Blomarj'. 


I, Arnold: 
to 6, Lyttoi 
, Titian; 1 = 


Diamond, i. B. 
6. Ere. 7. Y. 

Star Puzzle. From n to 10, Danton : 
Adrian; 4 to i2, Hudson; 4 to 13, Hande 
14, Napier; 8 to 14, Taylor (Bayard); 8 
Newton. From i to 10, Washington. 

Centr.^l Acrostic. Bunker Hill. Cross-words : 
2. yoUng. 3. baNks. 4. liKen. 5. drEss. 6. caRol. 
8. quiet. 9. hoLIy. 10. hiLly. 

Novel Word-sollxre. i. Ghasi. s. Haste. 3. Aster. 
5. Terns. 

Numerical Enigma. " We join ourselves to no party that does 
not carry the flag and keep step to the music of the Union. " 

Cross-word Enigma. Independence Day. 

Rhomboid. Across; i. Tables. 2. Siesta. 3. Natant. 4. Forger. 

5. Pellet. 6. Seldom. 
WoRD-BllLDiNG. I. I. 2. lo. 3. Ino. 4. Iron. 5. Groin. 

6. Trigon. 7. Rioting. 8. Ratioing. 9. Migration. 10. Emigra- 
tion. II. Germination. 

To oiR Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas " Riddle-box," care of The Centurv Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the May Number were received, before May 15th, from Paul Reese — Mama and Jamie — 
•' Infantry ■•—" The McG.'s"— Blanche and Fred— Rebecca M. Huntington —E. M. G.—" Hawkeye"— Josephine Sherwood —" The 
Wise Five"— Sara L. R.— Nellie L. Hawes— Uncle Mung — Ida Carleion Thallon. 

Answers to Puzzles in the May Number were received, before May 15th. from G. I. Shirley, 1 — "Sister," 2 — Elaine S., 3 — Clara 
B. Orwig, 7 — Pearl F. Stevens, 6 — Effie K. Talboys, 4 — " Fox," 3 — -Mama and Marion, 4 — Mary, Agnes, Julia, and Ella, i — " May 
and '79," 7 — Estelle, Clarendon, and C- Ions, 1 — "Grace C. Sargent, i — "Charles Beaufort," lo — No name. New York, i — Freddie 
Sutro, 4— "King Anso IV ," 7— Came K. Thacher. 3— W. W. L.. i — " Rychie de Roosler," 7 — Alice M. Blanke and sister, o — 
I., and I. 1. — Mama. Olive, ami K.itc. 4 —"The Nutshell," 9— Elizabeth Moore. 2. 


Some Geographical Questions. 1. Turkey. 2. Cork. 3. Jcr- 
y. 4. Oil. 5. Orange. 6. Cologne. 7. Leghorn. 8. Cod. 9. Bris- 
I. 10. Snake. 11. Sable. 12. Ulster. 13. Bismarck. 14. Shanghai. 
,. Hamburg and Astrakan. 16. Atlas. 17. Darling. 18. Mosquito. 

The sun hangs calm at summer's poise : 

The earth lies bathed in shimmering noon, 

At rest from all her cheerful noise. 

With heartstrings silently in tune. 

The time, how beautiful and dear. 

When early fruits begin to blush, 

And the full leafage of the year 

Sways o'er them with a sheltering hush. 
Primal .Acrostic. Banda. Cross-words ; i. Bonito. 2. An- 
em. 3. Nickel. 4. Defile. 5. Anubis. 

Hidden Diamonds. I. From 1 to 12, George Cuvier. Cross- 
3rds ; I. Gorgons. 2. Parsees. 3. Belabor. 4. Inciter. 5. Aver- 
Stupefy. 7. Bacchus. II. From i to 12, Thomas Edison, 
ords : r. Neptune. 2. Panther. 3. Horizon. 4. Stadium 
r. 6. Madison. 7. Euterpe. 

cmth. ! 


I. I. .\ TRACT of soft, wet ground. 2. The East. 3. Onc 
who rids. 4. A Roman magistrate. 5. Parts of fishing- 
lines. 6. Urgency. 

II. I. A large fiat fish. 2. A person who lends money 
at an exorbitant rate of interest. 3. A famous Italian 
tenor. 4. .\n inhabitant of a certain country. 5. A daugh- 
ter of the river-god Cebren, and wife of Paris. 6. Tri- 

prives of life. 5. .\ bone of the leg. 6. A woman 
whose husband is dead. 7. To make use of. 8. .\ 
feminine name. 9. The point opposite the zenith. 
" M,\Y BELLE." 


Insert letters in place of the stars, in each of the 
nine following sentences. When all the words are 
rightly completed, select from each of the sentences a 
word of five letters. When these nine words have been 
rightly guessed, and placed one below the other, the 
central letters, reading downward, will spell a name 
given to the first day of August. 

1. S*o*t f*t*y a* i* f*i''s. 

2. S*a'e t*e r*d a*d s*o*l t*e c*i*d. 

3. D*a*h c*m*s w*t*o*t c*l*i*g. 

4. H*m*n b*o*d i* o* o*e c*l*r. 

5. I* i* v*r' h'r* t* s'a'e a* e*g. 

6. H*s*e m*k*s w*s*e. 

7. L*i*g r*d*s o* d*b*s b"c'. 

8. l)*p*n*e*c* i* a p*o* t*a*e. 

9. 0"t o* p*c*e* i* o*t o* s*y*e. 


From 7 to 8, a recess ; from 8 to 9, a treatise ; from 

9 to 10, a pleasure-boat; from 10 to ii.insnans; from 

II to 12, to declare upon oath; from 12 to 13, to send 

back ; from 13 to 14, to mark ; from 14 to 15, a support 

for a picture ; from 15 to 16, a person afflicted with a 

certain disease; from 16 lo 17, furious; from 17 to iS, 

to delay; from 18 to 7, a fortification; from 7 to i, the 

goddess of retribution ; from 2 to 9, an ancient science 

My primals name a humorist, and my finals the hero which aimed to transmute metals into gold ; from 3 to 11, 

of one of his books. gardening implements ; from 4 to 13, erect ; from 15 to 

Cross-words : i. To ascend. 2. A prefix to many 5, a yellowish varnish; from 17 to 6, to perceive ; from 

words, implying imperfection. 3. A domain. 4. De- i to 6, the father of Jujiiler. " jiudledy-wlvks." 






I. In ants. 2. Skill. 3. Odd. 4. The twin sister 
of Apollo. 5. Fearful. 6. A famous epic poem. 7. In 

ants. A. r. C. ASHHURST. 

Het stercal pipopcs sculler yb eht doar, 

Het segewnip shystec safhl ni eht langlif s.irgs. 

Dan binglemur gasnow, hitw thire hevay deal, 
Lango het study wahshigy, nigengril, saps 
Ni sarveth mite. 

Ho, ontubeous soneas, chir thruhog veery rouh 
Ni stigf hatt keam rou slous hwit yoj a-nute ; 

lite flutifur thare si shavil fo reh derow, 

KuTiif gromsinn shulf lilt wogis het welloy mono, 
Ni vasreth emit. 


I. An aquatic, wading bird. 2. A combination. 
3. Uproar. 4. Hazard. 5. A printer's measure. 6. In 
wading. P01.1.Y \v. 


The words described are of unequal length, but when 
rightly guessed, and placed one below the other, the 
third row of letters will spell a name for Philomel. 

I. The capital of Siani. 2. A city in Connecticut. 3. A 
famous island. 4. A seaport of Brazil. 5. A city on 
the Arkansas river. 6. A populous country of Asia. 7. A 
mountain-chain in China. 8. A country of Asia. 9. An 
inland sea. 10. A desert of South Africa. 11. A large 
liay of South Australia. laura j. and sadie k. 


From i to 2, the wife of Amphion ; from 2 to 4, one 
of the Muses ; from 4 to 7, a handsome giant and hunter, 
son of Hyrieus ; from I to 3, a nymph of streams and 
springs ; from 3 to 6, the goddess of hunting ; from 6 to 
7, a certain Greek bard who is often represented as rid- 
ing on the back of a dolphin ; from 2105,3 son of Pano- 

peus ; from 3 to 5, a famous island in the .Egean Sea ; 
from 5 to 7, a sea-nymph. CYRII. ueane. 


I. I. Behead a trace, and leave a place of refuge. 
2. Behead unreal, and leave to divide. 3. Behead a cord, 
and leave a tree. 4. Behead a knot, and leave a geo- 
metrical figure. 5. Behead a fruit, and leave to rove at 
large. 6. Behead nothing, and leave something. 

The beheaded letters spell the name of a poet. 

II. I. Behead a charioteer, and leave a pleasant feature 
in a landscape. 2. Behead to raise, and leave part of the 
head. 3. Behead to desire, and leave to acquire by labor. 
4. Behead a famous explorer, and leave a farming imple- 
ment. 5. Behead an incident, and leave to utter. 6. Be- 
head nothing, and leave should. 

The beheaded letters spell the name of a poet. 

L. .\N1) E. 

Mv first, a word most near to every heart ; 
My next, a very large and heavy cart ; 
My last, an implement that makes a bed ; 
My 'ii'ltole, a story widely loved and read. 



I. Across: i. A South American quadruped. 2. In- 
formed. 3. An idolater. 4. Incensed. 5. To rejuvenate. 

Included Square: i. Strife. 2. A Turkish com- 
mander. 3. A quadruped. 

II. Across: i. Treatment. 2. Rest. 3. One of the 
Harpies. 4. Very cold. 5. Part of an ode. 

Included Square : i. Sediment. 2. A measure of 
length. 3. A masculine name. "" 


I AM composed of sixty-twoletters, and am a quotation 
from one of^Shakspere's plays. 

My 51-42-21-11-28 is a famous poem. My 62-3-22- 
57 is a famous German philosopher. My 37-60-44 15- 
40-9 is the title of a novel by a famous Scotch author. 
My 23-33-49-3S-7-16 is an illustrious German poet. 
My 2-19-53-47-32 is his most widely read work. My 
54-30-22 is a goddess in the Norse mythology. My 46- 
41-34-48-14-22 is the surname of the author of " Per- 
suasion." My 17-52-35-8 is the name of an English 
poet and critic. My 26-25-59-45-18-5 is a living .Ameri- 
can poet. My 13-36-6 1-50-56-39-58- 1 2-6-24 's an Eng- 
lish poet, who, in 1S02, married Mary Hutchinson. My 
10-4-27-55 is the name signed to many delightful essays. 
My 43-29-1-31-20 is the subject of a poem by Burns. 

A. AND M. 


•% j^ 

ft '■■ 


\£:«-^lim::::F''' ■ :>-- j-s^i-- 

<;i) M)i:nkod. 


Vol. XVIII. 


No. II. 

By Grace Denio Litchfield. 

Oh, not in the morning of April or May, 
When the young Hght lies faint on the sod 

And the wind-flower blooms for the half of a day. 
Not then comes the Goldenrod. 

But when the bright year has grown vivid and bold 
With its utmost of beauty and strength, 

Then it leaps into life, and its banners unfold 
Along all the land's green length. 

It is born in the glow of a great high noon. 

It is wrought of a bit of the sun ; 
Its being is set to a golden tune 

In a golden summer begun. 

No cliff is too high for its resolute foot, 

No meadow too bare or too low; 
It asks but the space for its fearless root, 

And the right to be glad and to grow. 

Copyright, 1891, by The Ce.vtcrv Co. .-Ml rights reserved. 


It delights in the lonehest waste of the moor, 
And mocks at the rain and the gust. 

It belongs to the people. It blooms for the j)oor. 
It thrives in the roadside dust. 

It endures though Se])tember wa.\ chill and unkini 

It laughs on the brink of the crag. 
Nor blanches when forests turn white in the wind ; 

Though dying, it holds up its flag ! 

Its bloom knows no .stint, its gold no alloy. 

And we claim it forever as ours — 
God's symbol of Freedom and world-wide Joy — 

America's flower of flowers ! 



lERS would prob- 
'• ably have thought 
Petunia just an ordinarily 
nice little girl. But her father, and her mother, 
and her two big brothers, and the girl, and 
the hired man, and her grandfather, and her 
grandmother, and Aunt Lila, and Uncle Carl, 
and their hired man were quite convinced that 
no other child ever existed one half as sweet, 
and smart, and bright, and beautiful, and alto- 
gether lovable as she. 

Her father's house was in Northern Kansas, 
and her grandfather's homestead in Southern 

Nebraska. The little town on the State line 
was all that divided them. 

" Hurry, Pet! " called her mother one morning 
in September. " We are going to Grandpa's." 

Laughing and shouting with delight Petunia 
ran for her sun-bonnet and tied it on her yellow- 
head. It was such fun to go to Grandpa's. 
The gentle red and white Jersey calf was a 
source of endless delight to her. And the hens 
at Grandpa's did not lay their eggs in an old 
barn as they did at home, but in dozens of queer 
little boxes, nailed up under the eaves of the 
thatched shed. And it was such a bit of frolic 


to climb up and peek in, and nearly break one's 
neck in doing so. Then Uncle Carl would, if 
he happened to be at the farm, carry her down 
to the mill on his shoulder. Petunia loved to 
see the foamy white cataract, sparkling and 
dashing down into the cool, green sheet below. 
Petunia always called the spray '• snow," which 
was what it most resembled. 

Her father brought around the team and farm- 
wagon. He lifted her in behind, where a " com- 
fort " was spread. Then he helped her mother 
to the high seat in front, climbed up beside her, 
shook the reins, and away they went. 

It was very early in the morning. Indeed, 
the sun himself had not been up long. A sky 
of pale, bright blue globed down on the bluffs 
and valleys. Pet, looking up, thought she was 
looking into a great, big, blue bowl turned 
upside down. It was speckled here and there — 
just like a robin's egg. Here, on the high 
Kansas land, one could see so far away. Off 
to the northwest a grayish haze lay upon the 
hills. On both sides were great forests of com. 
The stalks were all in regular rows, like bat- 
talions of soldiers. Pet did n't think that. She 
would n't have known what a battalion of sol- 
diers meant unless you told her — and perhaps 
not even then. For she was such a little thing, 
only two years and a half old in June. 

" T'ank you," she said to the fat meadow-lark 
with the pretty yellow vest, who, perched on a 
post, trilled out a gay, sweet song as she passed. 

" It won't be long 'fore we 's at Dranpa's!" 
she told herself gleefully. 

All they had to do was to drive down the 
steep hill that dipped and curved so queerly, 
cross the Kansas bridge, and then the railroad 
track, pass through the little town of Bubble, 
keep on straight north, rumble between the wal- 
nut-trees over the bridge above Rose Creek, 
drive east about a mile, turn to the left, and 
keep on, up and down the rolling road, till, 
within hearing and almost within sight of the 
old mill, one came on it — the little house where 
Grandpa lived. It was all very easy indeed 
to do — when one knew how. 

Very tall were the sunflowers by the roadside. 
" Big as giants, I dess," Pet said. Above their 
great, coarse, dull green leaves their golden 
disks with hearts of brownest velvet nodded 


quite condescendingly down on the trio in the 

" Dood-mornin ' I " Pet said frequently in reply 
to their bowing, for she was a very polite little 

It would be very warm by and by, but now 
the morning air was delicious, — pure and cool 
and sweet. 

At her grandpa's they were all so glad to see 
Petunia. She was the only child in the family, 
and the darling of them all. Do you wonder 
how so many people lived in such a tiny house ? 
A great many western farmers live in very small 
houses. Not, of course, because land is scarce 
or dear, but because when they begin farming 
they need so many horses and machines, that 
they think they will manage with any kind of a 
house for a while. And they always intend, 
when the sheds and stables are all built, and 
the crops are good, to erect a fine, comfortable 
dwelling. This the majority of them do. That 
is why, in driving through Kansas and Nebraska, 
you so often see large, new frame-houses, almost 
invariably painted white with green shutters, 
and in the rear of each a long, low, log or sod 
structure, now used for a shed or hen-house, but 
formerly the abode of the family. Sometimes, 
as in the case of Petunia's grandfather, those 
who have homesteaded the land live till old in 
the first little house. Pet's Uncle Carl worked 
in Bubble, and spent only Sunday at the farm. 
Her Aunt Lila taught school on the next sec- 
tion. The hired man slept in the bam. There 
was no one in the house over night except Pet's 
grandfather and his wife, and Aunt Lila. When 
Pet came on a visit she slept with her aunt. 

That day — Sunday — Uncle Carl was at 
home. So after he had taken Pet down to the 
mill, after she had seen the Jersey calf and had 
brought in a pail of warm, pinkish eggs she had 
found in the queer boxes under the eaves of the 
shed, and had eaten four of Grandma's cookies, 
she announced her intention of going out to see 
the corn grow, or, as she herself said it : " doin' 
out to see the torn drow." 

They all laughed heartily at this quaint 
announcement of the little girl, but not till the 
.small figure in the blue gingham (that Aunt 
Lila herself had made) and the pink plaid 
sun-bonnet had disappeared. It was a regular 


custom with I'etunia, this '• doin' out to see the 
torn (Irow ! " Her grandfatlier had a half-sec- 
tion, three hundred and twenty acres, all planted 
in com. 

When Pet was there in April she watchetl 
the men plowing. She liked to see the stream 
of wee, hard, yellow grains drop three and three 
in the furrows. 

Pearly in May all over the land were seen 
pencilings of bright green. These looked like 
little knots of wavy ribbon, running up and down, 
but always in precise and even lines, at the sides 
of the dusky furrows of upturned earth. Through 
it were scattered thousands of pale-tinted, strag- 
gly blossoms. 

In June the young corn was as high as Pet's 
waist. Wild roses rioted underneath its emer- 
ald tufts, the full-blown ones soft pink, and the 
buds deep crimson. 

In July it was far taller than Uncle Carl, 
but just as green as ever. There had been 
plenty of rain, followed by very hot sunshine. 
That was why it had grown so splendidly. 

Pet took much interest in her grandfather's 
crop. She used on every visit to go out, just as 
she did on this particular morning, and with her 
head on one side critically note its progress. 
Then she would return to the house, and very 
gravely express her opinion on the subject. 

To-day she was not a httle puzzled. The 
long, lovely green streamers were green no 
more. They were not thick either. They had 
become yellow and thin. When they rustled 
they crackled like paper. The corn itself was 
swathed in ever so many wrappings that looked 
like stiff crinkly silk. And the fine, soft tassels 
that waved in the fresh morning breeze were 
golden, too. 

To be sure their corn had changed also, as 
had all they had passed in coming over from 
Kansas. But she had been fancying her grand- 
father's would look quite the same as usual. 
The sun was high up now. She could feel the 
warmth on the top of her head. Plow lovely 
and cool it looked in under the corn 1 So very 
tall the corn was ! Even when Pet pushed 
back her sun-bonnet, and stared straight up, she 
could hardly see the top of it. She thought it 
would be nice to walk in there, to keep on and 
on, till she came to the end of the long, narrow 



path, tiien turn around and come right back. 
Petunia did n't know anything about the " ten 
thousand men who marched up a hill and then 
marched down again," but she meant to do 
practically the same thing. So she entered 
one of the aisles, — not as wide as those you 
see in a church, — and she walked on and on 
between the stiff, high, golden stalks. 

Such a lovely place as that was I 
The sun could n't shine in there to burn the top 
of one's head ! And the long shimmering rib- 
bons, and the fuzzy silken tassels, all seemed 
murmuring together in a queer, soft, brisk, 
breezy sort of way. On and on between the 
rows of corn the feet in the stubby little shoes 
went plodding ; on and on ! 

" My I " panted Petunia, " me mus' be pitty 
near de end now ! Dacious ! dere are a but- 

A butterfly, indeed, a big, creamy butterfly, 
with spots of brown and rose all over his wide- 
spread w'ings. And he was the laziest butterfl)- 
Petunia ever saw. He sailed along so slowly 
she was quite sure she could catch him. He 
wheeled away to the left. After him the sturdy 
little legs went racing. As she almost touched 
him, he floated upward, and lit over her head. 
For some time she stood looking up at him, and 
waiting for him to come down. Finally, she 
shook the cornstalk. He did not seem to like 
the disturbance, for away down the narrow road 
he flew, with Petunia in full chase. 

All at once he disappeared. Where did he 
go ? To save her life Petunia could n't tell. 
Very still and sorrowful she stood, and looked — 
everywhere. As she was peering betw-een the 
great thick stalks at each side she suddenly 
caught her breath with a sharp little gasp of 

" Oh, doodness ! " she exclaimed, clasping her 
wee hands, " what a nice wabbit ! " 

Not ten feet away, with his long, pointed ears 
and funny little bit of a bushy, white tail erect, 
sat a large, gray jack-rabbit. Petunia imagined 
he looked like her own dog, " Dixie." She 
would like to make friends with him. She 
wished she could pat him on the head. Per- 
haps she could coax him home with her ! 
Gently but directly she went toward him. As 
she came near, he straightened up, and looked 


in astonishment at the little girl smiling at him. 
Then, with one terrific bound (Petunia fancied 
that he had jumped over her head), he was oft" 
and away ! 

Two big tears trembled out, and hung shining 
on her brown lashes. 

•■ Butterfly gone, an' wabbit gone ! " she 
sobbed. She was very tired. She really did 
not know how tired she was. She had walked 
a long way. She had run so hard. And it had 
become hot in the corn by this time. Not the 
blistering warmth of the midday sun that was 
torturing without, but a close, heavy, dank heat, 
caused by the thickness of the corn and the 
moisture of the earth. 

" Dess me go home now an' get some moah 
tookies I " she decided. She turned, as she 
supposed, in the direction of her grandfather's 
house. In reality she was going farther and 
farther away. She walked on. Still more tired 
and hungry she grew. It was so far back. 
She wished she had not come such a long way. 
Suddenly she stopped. She heard a rush through 
the air, the whir of wings. Down, almost at her 
feet, whirled a covey of quail. She did not 
try to catch them. She was afraid they would 
vanish, as did the butterfly and the jack-rabbit. 
But she stood very still and watched them as 
they stalked about in state. 

More intense the heat grew. It was not 
near night-time, but for a moment Petunia had 
fancied it must be, because of the sudden dark- 
ness. Suddenly came a sweeping coolness — like 
a chilly wind. The com rustled. Pet thought 
it must be angr)' about something. Every 
streamer seemed to be chattering loudly and 
harshly, and doing battle with its brother. The 
quail swung up, and circled away. Petunia 
heard overhead a quick, sharp pattering. A 
few drops plashed on her sun-bonnet. Sud- 
denly there was a blaze of flame. She was 
dazed. She could not see at all. Then out 
bellowed an awful roar that seemed to the little 
girl to shake the ground. 

Pet was fearfully afraid of thunder, and she 
began to cry and to run. But the rain poured 
more heavily, the corn swayed and crashed, the 
lightning blazed on, and the thunder apparently 
did not cease for one whole minute at a time. 
Poor little Petunia ! She could find no way out 


of the forest of corn. Crazed with fright she 
hurried this way and that. Once she slipped 
and fell. Looking up she saw a huge hawk 
whirling overheard. So she staggered to her 
feet again, and ran on — anywhere. She re- 
membered that hawks ate young chickens. 
How did she know they would not hurt little 
children ? 

No way was there out of that forest of gold. 
At least there was none that Pet could find. 
North she ran ; and south ; and east ; and west. 
Com, corn ! — there was nothing but com. To 
the right, to the left, before and behind. If 
she could even see through it — or over it ! In 
a vague kind of way she remembered when it 
was so small and weak she could have pulled 
many a root of it up with her own tiny hands. 
Now every stalk of corn seemed like a tree in 
her path. 

How the storm kept beating down, down '. 
Her legs ached so she could hardly move them. 

"Oh, Mama!" she shrieked. "Oh, Papa ! Pet 
f'i'tened — so, so f'i'tened!" Only the storm 
roared back an answer. Then she saw such 
terrifying things. A lithe brown animal, like a 
very long mouse, ran before her. She screamed 
louder than ever, for she was more afraid of 
gophers than of anything else. She stepped on 
an ant-hill. A hundred infinitesimal black specks 
went scurrying across her feet. A mottled frog 
opened his mouth so wide she thought he meant 
to swallow her. So she kept on running, stum- 
bling, picking herself up, and falling again. The 
storm died away. The sun shone out for a little 
while. Then the terrible twilight came. The 
night closed down — down. 

Poor Petunia could run no more. When she 
fell now, she was too tired to get up. So she 
lay there like a little hurt bird that would never 
fly again. 

Such a time as there was at the 
when Petunia was missed ! It was almost the 
hour for dinner. Every room was searched. 
The barn was searched. Uncle Carl ran to the 
neighbors' houses. No one had .seen her. No 
one could imagine what had become of her. 
They were all afraid she might have wandered 
down to the mill-stream, and fallen in. Her 
mother cried with terror as the day wore on and 



no trace was found of her. Then Grandpa 
remembered how she had gone out to see the 
corn grow. Perhaps she had wandered in, and 
was lost in that vast, waving field ! " God help 
us!" murmured her father. " There 's a whole 
half-section in corn. She may be dead before 
we find her I " 

The news that Petunia was lost was sent to 
all the farmhouses around. By the time the 
storm burst, seven men on horseback were, at 
different points, jiicking their way through the 
com. The drenching rain, the crashing thunder, 
the blinding lightning, the approaching night 
they dreaded not at all. Each thought only of 
the poor litde baby lost somewhere in that 
wilderness of stalks, terrified at their strange 
whisperings, and wondering perhaps why no 
one came to take her home. 

Very carefully had every one to make his 

way, lest his horse should tread on her. There 
was no use calling while the storm lasted. Their 
voices could not be heard above its roar. When 
it was over they shouteil, and listened — and 
.shouted again. 

Twilight came — then darkness. They lit the 
lanterns tied to their saddles, and holding them 
low plodded on and on. 

It was nine o'clock ! 

It was ten o'clock ! And overhead a great 
white moon went sailing up the sky. Its radi- 
ance glistened the wet corn till it was all 
one vast and tremulous sea of gold. Suddenly, 
breaking the stillness of the night. Grandpa's 
strong old voice rang out triumphantly : •• Found ! 
Found, boys I Found ! " 

Petunia's father gave a cheer that rang up 
to the blue Nebraska sky, a veritable prean of 
praise. Tiie other men heard the joyful cr)'. 


and sent back echoing shouts, answering the 
glad tidings. 

At first, when Pet awoke she could not remem- 
ber where she was. The corn — and the moon 
— and the men — and the horses ! And the 
lanterns dancing like fireflies ! What did they 
mean ? Why was she there in that strange place 
at night ? 

But when her grandfather dismounted, and 
lifted her up before him on the saddle, she re- 


membered what had happened, and a delight- 
ful sense of security came stealing over her. She 
was stiff and sore. But she managed to turn 
and clasp both her tired little arms around his 
neck. Her tear-stained cheek, blackened with 
prairie-mold, she cutldled close down upon his 

" Oh, Dranpa," she sobbed, " I don't want to 
see the — torn — drow — any — more I " 

Then she went to sleep again. 

ny coffee is n't 5weet: £>.( &.11, 
k- v3&id little Johnny Groy: 
v5o put e^notKer lump in,pleexse. 
It isn't nice this v/6.y." 

- "Now, Johnny Gr&y,"s&id[ vSister Ke*te, 
" I sweetened it with two 
Greext sug&r lumps, which ought to be 
Enough [or even you ! " 

"A\e>yberhe se^id, and grexvely stirred 
The frexgr&nt, stea,ming cup, 
"Perh&^ps, you know, the reason was 
I hexdn't wound it up '" 


13 V J. T. 


[Be^n in the November number \ 

Chapter XLIII. 
'•what your enemies have done." 

Toby had not wasted a great amount of 
breath in giving the alarm. But his cries had 
hardly ceased when they were echoed first by 
•one voice, then by another, farther and farther 
away, and more and more prolonged. The cries 
were followed soon by the sound of footsteps 
running hurriedly through the village streets. 
And it was not long before the fire-bells began 
their terrible clamor. 

Toby had extinguished the wharf with his 
■own hands, and saved the " Milly," before any 
help arrived. Then men and boys rushed to 
the spot, and a fire-engine came rattling down 
the street. 

The glare that guided them had not quite 
faded out of the sky. The burning boat was 
like a pretty piece of fireworks, a floating foun- 
tain of flame that lighted up the lake and cast 
wild gleams along the shore. 

Toby, utterly exhausted, hatless, coatless, 
drenched to the waist, his pale face streaked 
with sweat and soot, had sunk down at the 
end of his half-burnt oar-box, with the empty 
bucket by his side. 

'■ Nothing but a little bit of an old wharf! " 
some one said. " A great thing to raise an 
alarm about ! " 

Toby did not even turn and look at the 
speaker. Somebody answered for him. 

"It was a new wharf to-day, and you can 
.see by what is left of it whether it was little. 
How did it happen, Toby ? " 

Still he did not answer; his heart was too 
full. The spectators pressed around him, ques- 
tioning, conjecturing, examining the charred 
ruins, and watching the burning boat. 

" Is n't that one of your boats, Toby ? " 

" It 's one of my boats," he answered, in a 
cold, unnatural tone of voice. 

'• It 's burning up! " 

" Let it burn ! " he said. " Don't you sup- 
pose I know it ? " 

" Could n't you hinder it ? " 

" Do you suppose I would n't have hindered 
it if I could ? " 

" You are a master-hand for burning up 
boats, Toby, I must say ! " 

The last speaker was Mr. Brunswick, the 
iceman, who had just joined the crowd. 

" I have n't burnt any boats myself," replied 
Toby, desperately. '• If the truth were known, 
I guess you 'd find this fire was set with some 
of the same kind of matches that burnt your 
scow. Where 's Bob to-night ? " 

" Home and abed, I s'pose," said the iceman ; 
" I have n't seen him." 

It was n't hke the younger Bob to be at home 
and abed during the excitement caused by a 
midnight alarm of fire. 

Toby looked around at the famihar faces 
dimly illumined by the gleam from the water. 
Those of Yellow Jacket and Butter Ball, fel- 
lows who never missed an opportimity of run- 
ning with an engine unless they could reach a 
fire before it, were conspicuous by their absence. 
Neither was Tom Tazwell on the spot. 

Of the gang Toby suspected, only Lick 
Stevens was seen, sauntering about, cool and 
indifferent, making sarcastic remarks. Yellow 
Jacket, Butter Ball, and the younger Bob ap- 
peared later, coming singly and from different 
directions ; but no Tom Tazwell. 

A hand was laid on Toby's .shoulder, and a 
\oice different from the rest said : 

" This won't do, Tobias ! You are wet and 
heated, and you will get cold. AVhere 's your 
coat ? " 

" I did n't stop for any coat," said Toby. 
" I 'm not cold." 

But the schoolmaster, who carried a light 
overcoat on his arm, insisted on laying it over 
the boy's shoulders. 


" What your enemies have done is despicable, 
but you are not going to be cast down by it. 
Not much more than the flooring of the wharf 
is gone, and one boat." 

" Your sail was in that," said Toby. 

'• I don't care anything about the sail," Mr. 
Allerton replied. " How did the boat get 
loose ? " 

" The fastenings burned off, and the wind took 
it out. I had to stay and put out the main fire, 
and save the ' Milly.' Yes, Dr. Patty," Toby said, 
turning to a new-comer, " it was Ned's boat, and 
I 'm glad enough I paid you for it last week, so 
there need n't be any question about it now." 

" I don't know as to that," said the doctor, 
grasping the boy's hand. " You left some 
money at my house. But I never meant to 
take pay for the boat ; and I should be as 
mean as the scoundrels who fired your property 
if I should take pay for it now. That 's the 
way I feel, and that 's the way every honest 
man in the community will feel about this 
abominable outrage." 

" Thank you. Dr. Patty ! " faltered Toby. 

He had borne up bravely until Mr. Allerton 
laid his coat on his shoulders. The kind words 
and kinder touch that accompanied the act 
had caused his first tears to start. And now 
Dr. Patty's sympathy and indignation caused a 
choking spasm in his throat. 

Others echoed the doctor's sentiments, and 
asked Toby what he intended to do. 

" Do ? " said he. " I 'm going to fight this 
fight out if it costs me my last cent and my 
last breath 1 Burke, where 's your father ? " 

" He 's here ; just come," replied the boy. 

" They have served you a shabby trick, 
have n't they, Toby ? " said the carpenter, ap- 
proaching. '• But it ain't so bad as it might be. 
I guess the posts and the 'jise,' for the most part, 
are all right." 

" To-morrow is Sunday," remarked Toby. 
" Can you give me Monday ? " 

" Maybe I can," said the carpenter. '• For 
what ? " 

" To rebuild this wharf," replied Toby. 

" Is it decided so suddenly ? " 

" It was decided the minute I caught .sight of 
the fire. ' If it burns, I '11 rebuild it,' I said. 
That 's what 1 '11 do every time. The scamps 


who meant to spite me and do the railroad com- 
pany a service may as well know it," Toby 
added, raising his voice, to make himself heard 
distinctly by Lick Stevens or any others of the 
suspected gang who might be near. 

" Here is your sister, coming to bring your 
coat," said Mr. Allerton. " You must go home 
with her at once and change these wet clothes." 

The fire-engine boys, with their hose-carriage 
and their machine, red lanterns and tinkling 
bells, moved slowly up the street. The hght 
shell of the drifting boat burned to the water's 
edge, the last feeble gleams died out, and dark- 
ness settled upon the lake, the shore, the black- 
ened wreck of the wharf, and the departing 

Chapter XLIV. 

YELLOW jacket's SECRET. 

If anybody derived satisfaction from the de- 
struction of Toby's property and other injury 
done to his business, it certainly was not Yellow 
Jacket. He withdrew himself from his compan- 
ions. He frowned upon Butter Ball, he glow- 
ered at Lick Stevens. A settled dissatisfaction 
took possession of him; his countenance was 
downcast; his look was glum. He wandered 
much alone, but he shunned the lake, and his 
boat lay idle under the willow. If he observed 
one of his favorite insects on a wayside road he 
gazed at it listlessly and passed on. Assuredly 
something ailed the wasp-catcher. 

He saw Toby's wharf triumphantly rebuilt, 
another and finer boat replace the one that was 
destroyed, and things go on again very much as 
they had gone before. But life was no longer 
the same to Yellow Jacket. 

" What 's the matter with the fellow ? " peo- 
ple asked. " He does n't sit on the fence and 
whittle, nor even brag any more ! " 

He had had fits of moroseness, it is true, ever 
since his falling out with Toby. They were 
transitory ; he did not quite forget to smile. 
But now it seemed as if nothing short of a 
chance to save another life or two would rouse 
him from his melancholy, and give his vapid 
existence a flavor. 

Mr. Allerton, who had never lost his interest 
in him, — who always bowed when they met, and 
respectfully called him •• Patterson," — watched 




his conduct with profound curiosity. More than 
once the solitary one acted as if he desired to 
speak with him. But if the schoolmaster paused 
or turned aside, to afford him an opportunity, 
Yellow Jacket would suddenly give his head a 
sidelong toss, and stalk away. 

But one evening Mr. Allerton saw him stop 
on the opposite side of a street, and look o\er 
at him. When the schoolmaster stopped, too, 
Yellow Jacket dropped his head and walked on. 

" Patterson ! " Mr. Allerton called. Yellow 
Jacket stopped again, but with his head down, 
and without looking around. 

" I 've thought for some time, Patterson," 
said Mr. Allerton, going over to him, " that I 
should like to have a little talk with you ; and 
that perhaps you have something to say to me." 

" I don't know as I 've got anything to say 
to anybody," Yellow Jacket rephed, with his 
eyes on the dust, which he began to kick with 
his toes. 

" You ought to have. You seem to be very 
much alone lately. That is n't natural. I 
thought, at one time, you and I were going to 
become better acquainted," Mr. Allerton went 
on. " Come, let 's take a little stroll together. 
I '11 go your way, or will you go mine ? " 

" It does n't make any .sort of difference to 
me which way I go," said Yellow Jacket. 

Not a word more was spoken for a minute or 
two, as they walked side by side in the lonely 
but lovely country, under the twilight sky. 
Yellow Jacket, however, was inclined to walk 
fast and leave Mr. Allerton behind. 

" What a pair of shoulders you have, Patter- 
son!" said the schoolmaster. "You should 
have some occupation, to bring such muscles 
into play. How many days' work have you 
done this summer, Patterson ? " 

" Not many," muttered Yellow Jacket. 

" You see," said Mr. Allerton, " my idea of 
somebody's keeping boats, and making a busi- 
ness of it, was n't a bad one. I never could 
understand why you did n't take it up. Do 
you think you could have got along in it any 
better than Toby has ? I mean, without mak- 
ing so many enemies." 

" I don't know. I could n't have built up 
such a business. I have n't got that sort of go 
in me," Yellow Jacket admitted. 

"That 's what I concluded; and that 's why 
I suggested, after you had let the first chance 
pass by, that he should manage it and you 
should assist him. We both meant well by 
you, Patterson, though you have n't seemed to 
think so." 

" Toby has said things to me that I can't get 
over," muttered Yellow Jacket. 

But when Mr. Allerton urged him to name 
them he was ashamed to acknowledge what 
trifles had given him offense. 

" Some boyish words, no doubt, which he 
was sorry for as soon as he had spoken them," 
said Mr. Allerton. 

" I don't mind about 'em now," Yellow Jacket 
replied. "I like to see fair play." 

" Do you think Toby has had fair play ? " 

" No, I don't ! And that 's what makes me 
mad! " 

Yellow Jacket spoke impetuously, but sud- 
denly paused, with a fierce downward fling of 
his head, as he quickened his pace. 

" I 'm glad to hear you say that," replied the 
schoolmaster. " It shows that I have n't mis- 
judged you." 

" I like fair play," Yellow Jacket repeated, 
sententiously, charging the words with a mys- 
terious meaning. 

" I believe you do, Patterson, and I believe 
that you, if anybody, can help Toby to get it." 

Yellow Jacket gave a ferocious sort of laugh. 
" I guess I could if I should tell what I know! " 
he said quickly. 

Ever since the fire, Toby and his friends had 
tried in vain to fix the responsibility upon the 
guilty parties. Suspicion was strong, but proof 
was lacking. That Yellow Jacket possessed 
the secret which would bring them to punish- 
ment and compensate Toby for his trouble and 
loss, Mr. Allerton had not the slightest doubt. 

" And you are going to tell me, Patterson ! " 

" I don't know about that. I like fair play. 
But I don't want to have it said that I went back 
on my friends." 

" Your friends ! Do you fancy they really are 
your friends, Patterson ? " 

" I 've been with 'em, all the same. I don't 
w-ant to be called a traitor, though I like fair 

" But you are going to tell me, Patterson. 



You have been wishing to tell me for some 

" I 've thought he ought to know, and I 
could tell you better than I could anybody else. 
But mind you, Mr. Allerton, I ain't going to 
have folks p'int at me as a turncoat." 

Yellow Jacket stopped and stood facing Mr. 
Allerton, speaking in a low, determined voice. 

" Well, Patterson, I don't want you to do 
anything dishonorable. But don't let a false 
sense of obligation keep you from doing a 
simple act of justice. You owe that to Toby. 
What more do you owe to those who have 
injured him ? " 

" I don't owe 'em nothing ! " said Yellow 
Jacket, emphatic with his double negatives. 
" All I ask is, that you won't give me away. 
Promise that, and I '11 put Toby on the track 
of something that '11 pay him a hundred times 
over for all the damage /'ve ever done him." 

'• If he can have that without your name 
being mentioned, of course I never will men- 
tion it. But I don't quite see how it can be." 

" It can be, easy enough, Mr. Allerton. You 
won't need to lug me in. What I tell you will 
be its own proof. You know Tazwell is trying 
to buy Mrs. Trafford's lake-side lot ? " 

" Yes; he has been after it again very recently, 
and I believe she has about concluded to let 
him have it. She is to give him his answer 
to-morrow. But what has that to do with — " 

" Why, that 's it ! " exclaimed Yellow Jacket. 
" I 'm just in time ! " 

'■ Patterson I What do you mean ? " exclaimed 
Mr. Allerton, who had not given that other 
secret a single thought. 

" There 's a mineral spring on that lot worth 
thousands of dollars. That 's why Tazwell 
wants it." 

Mr. Allerton was silent \\ith astonishment. 

'• We fellows discovered it the day we had 
that row about the swallows. Somebody had 
dug out a hole in a wet place ; I s'pose to get 
water to put out the fire. When we came 
along, that hole was a bubbling spring. ' It 's a 
gold mine ! ' says Lick Stevens. ' It 's reg'lar 
Vichy water ! ' says Tom Tazwell. He made 
Lick and me agree not to tell ; and after his 
father had the water examined, he offered us 
twenty-five dollars apiece if we 'd keep the 

secret till he had bought the property — swin- 
dled the Widow Trafiford, for that 's what it 
amounts to," said Yellow Jacket. 

" This is surely very important information, 
Patterson ! " 

'• I know it. And I could n't stand by and 
see the game go on, without putting in a word ; 
particularly after Toby was used so badly in the 
wharf business. What do I care for the twenty- 
five dollars ? We just covered the hole up 
again, with sticks and brush ; but the spring 
can't be stopped, as it was before. The water 
is running all down the ravine, and only a little 
digging is needed to make a splendid well. 
Now you 've got my secret." 

"But, Patterson 1 — the Traftbrds, as well as 
myself, will be very greatly obliged, but — I 
thought there was something else." 

" Have n't I said enough ? " replied Yellow 
Jacket, with a triumphant and cheerful manner, 
quite unlike his late remorseful behavior. 

He was not without conscience, but he felt 
that he had now made up for all the evil he 
had done Toby. 

" But there is one thing more you can and 
ought to tell. Who fired the wharf?" 

Gloom fell again upon the wasp-catcher's 

" I 've given you somethin' to oftset that, a 
hundred times over ! " 

So saying. Yellow Jacket dropped his head, 
and walked sullenly on. Mr. Allerton followed, 
but soon saw how vain it was to attempt to 
draw from him another word on the unpleasant 

Chapter XLV. 


The next day Toby and his friend visited 
the lake-side lot, reopened the spring, and 
brought away some bottles of the water. 

Mrs. Trafiford, convinced at last that she had 
been well advised when she declined Mr. Taz- 
well's proposals, now gave him her final answer. 
Although he had raised his bid to eight hun- 
dred dollars above what the property had cost 
her, he had not yet offered more than a third or 
a (juarter of its probable value. 

'• There 's no need of being in a huriy to sell 
it," said Tobv. 

82 2 



However, he began to advertise it in a ])rac- 
tical anil inexpensive way. Whenever he had 
time in taking passengers across the lake, he 
would invite them to land at his lot, and visit 
the swallow-tree and the mineral sjirini;. 

Everybody ]iraised 
the water; and every- 
body said, looking oti" 
upon the landscape and 
the lake, " What a mag- 
nificent site fora hotel I" 

Toby's ambition was 
to see the hotel there, 
which would repay his 
mother for her losses in 
other transactions with 
Tazwell, and also in- 
crease the patronage of 
his boats. 

" The hotel can be 
placed here, or any- 
where below, on the 
slope." remarked Mr. 
AUerton. " The water 
can be carried down to 
an artificial fountain, in 
underground pipes." 

The swallows took 
their flight to warmer 
skies, and summer tour- 
ists became .scarce. But 
before hauling his boats 
up at the close of the 
season, Toby found 
that, notwithstanding 
his losses, he had made 
a clear profit of nearly 
two hundred dollars. 

The outlook was 
bright for another year. 
'J'here had been no 
second attack upon his 
wharf, and public opin- 
ion appeared to have come over permanently 
to his side. 

One morning Milly took from the post-office the 
following note, written in a school-girl hand : 

Df.arest Millv, I love yon as much as ever, but I 
cannot come and see you, and I know why you do not 
visit us any more. 1 have something very particular lo 

say lo you for Toby, and if you or he will walk as far as 
the foot of our lane this evening, a litlle after sundown, 
I will meet you there, if I am nol watched. Hertha. 

" If she is not watched!" said Milly. "What 
can that mean ? .And she cannot come and 

see us ! In fact, she has n't been here, Toby, 
since your wharf was burned ; I ' ve noticed that." 
Yet there had been a time during his at- 
tempted negotiations for the lake-side lot when 
Mr. Tazwell had seemed to